Firsts and Lasts
by wazlib88
Summary: On 2 May 1998, Hermione Granger kissed Ron Weasley. On 21 June 2003, Ron Weasley married Hermione Granger. This is the story of the five years in between and of the firsts and lasts that made it all possible.
1. Prologue

A/N: Hello and welcome to my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic! Please rest assured that I have every chapter planned and that many of them are already at least partially written, so I promise not to leave you hanging for weeks or months on end. This first chapter serves as a prologue. This was the only chapter I hadn't really planned, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. Please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the wonderful world of Harry Potter. I own a copy of the first book that's got a portion falling out due to the sheer number of times I've read it since I was seven years old.

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21 June 2003

It was just after eight o'clock on a Saturday night, and Hermione was relaxing alone at a table with a glass of fine wine. It wasn't too far removed from any other Saturday night, really, save for her outfit. Unless Ron had something special planned, she'd normally spend Saturday night in her pajamas. Tonight, however, that would probably be considered underdressed. While her fuzzy green pajama pants were undoubtedly more comfortable, Hermione couldn't deny that she preferred the beautiful white dress she and her mum had spent hours picking out. It was the fact that she needed the dress at all, she supposed, that made this Saturday night so different from the others. Tonight was, after all, the best Saturday night of her life.

"Ah-ha! There you are, wife!" Hermione's brief moment of relaxation was interrupted quite pleasantly by an arm around her shoulders and a kiss on the cheek. She beamed up at Ron, who looked incredibly handsome in the muggle suit she'd persuaded him to wear for the sake of her parents. _Wife,_ he'd said_—_she was his wife now. Just the thought that the titles husband and wife now applied to them made Hermione giddy.

"Didn't think you could lose me that easily, did you?" Hermione asked him cheekily.

"Nah, it'll probably be a few weeks at least before you've got a mind to ditch me," he replied, threading his fingers through hers and pulling her to her feet. "Come and dance."

Hermione smiled as she followed him to the dance floor, remembering the first time he'd said those words to her under this very tent six years ago. The decorations were different this time; they'd chosen blue as their wedding color and they'd filled the room with daisies instead of roses, but otherwise it was set up identically to Bill and Fleur's wedding. So much had changed since then; after all, they'd been seventeen at the time. Now here they were, twenty-three and newlyweds. It wasn't that they were entirely different people, Hermione thought. It was as if they were now better versions of themselves.

As they reached the floor, the music began to fade and a slower song began to play. Hermione glanced over to the speakers they'd charmed for the occasion to see a smirking George. She stuck her tongue out in what was, of course, a very mature gesture. Ron just rolled his eyes and pulled her considerably closer to himself than he would have dared if they'd still been their seventeen year old selves, and Hermione hummed contentedly.

"We're _married_," Ron breathed as they began to sway unceremoniously to something resembling the beat of the music.

"That's what the party was for, you know," Hermione replied, smiling as she saw her parents dancing near them. Her mum, who'd been crying off and on since eight that morning, gave her a wide smile from across the floor.

"You're not Hermione Granger anymore," Ron observed. "That's the weirdest part of it, really."

"It is. Do you realize I'll have to change my signature?" Hermione replied half-seriously.

To her surprise, Ron's eyes actually went wide. "I didn't even think of that, to be honest."

Hermione laughed. "It's alright though. Hermione Weasley's got a nice ring to it."

Ron gripped her waist tighter, his eyes boring into hers. "When do I get to take you home, Hermione Weasley?"

"Soon, I hope," she replied. "But it seems rude to leave a party they've thrown just for us, and besides, you get me all to yourself for the next week."

Ron sighed contentedly. "Thank Merlin. Not that I haven't loved every second of today, mind you, but part of me wants it to be just us, y'know?"

Hermione nodded in understanding and laid her head on Ron's shoulder. He responded by moving his hands from her waist to her back to enclose her in a sort of swaying embrace. It was true that while this had been the best day of her life, on some level Hermione was glad it was almost over. The entire morning and early afternoon had almost exclusively consisted of anxiety. She'd been convinced that she would trip on her way down the aisle, or that she'd stutter during her vows, or that she'd tear her dress somehow. Getting dressed with her mum, Ron's mum, and Ginny had really just been stressful. They spent hours surrounding her and perfecting every inch of her face and every lock of her hair. Though she was pleased with the result, the process was not something she wished to repeat. It had all been worth it, though, to see Ron's face as she did not trip down the aisle and as she said her vows clearly and concisely, though it didn't happen without a few tears in both of their eyes.

The reception had been lovely thus far, although a bit overwhelming at first. Everyone that had shown up had almost immediately flocked toward them to offer their congratulations. They'd barely had a moment to themselves until their first dance, during which every pair of eyes in the room was set on them, and they took turns laughing at each other while trying to make the whole thing look romantic. The only comfort they took was that they no longer tread on each other's toes as they had when they were seventeen, so they must have looked at least slightly less ridiculous now.

After a few moments, Ron's voice pulled Hermione out of her train of thought. "Mum's waving us over. I think some of my cousins are on their way out."

Hermione sighed and pulled back a bit, but did not remove her arms from around him. "Can we not do what we please at our own wedding?"

"You're the one that just said we should appreciate all of this," Ron reminded her as he reluctantly loosened their embrace.

"Yes, well, I've changed my mind," Hermione replied under her breath, taking his offered hand as they made their way over to mingle with their guests once more.

After nearly an hour of socialization with relatives and family friends whose names Hermione would likely never commit to memory, Hermione and Ron finally took a seat at a table with Harry and Ginny. "Ah, at last, the best man and the maid of honor! You lot could've warned us about all this," Ron said pointedly.

"I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied, summoning a bottle of firewhiskey from the bar and offering it to them. Ron took a hearty swig before offering the bottle to Hermione, who took a dainty sip.

"Don't moan about it. You'll love every second of it when you look back on it," Ginny said knowingly.

"Yeah, I'll remember every second that was about me and Hermione. Not every mundane conversation I had with every relative I never talk to," Ron replied.

"I agree completely," Hermione said. "I made the guest list and I still didn't realize there'd be so many people."

"Now that's shocking," Ginny said sardonically, "Hermione agrees with something Ron's said."

"Well now that we're married, we figure it's about time we start presenting a united front," Ron remarked.

"I know what you mean," Harry said, avoiding Ginny's glare. "Most of it was a blur, but there are moments that stand out. Like how stunning you looked," he finished smoothly, throwing a winning grin in Ginny's direction. Ron gave a fake gagging noise, and the others chuckled for a moment.

"I'm giving you lot a hard time about being tired, but we were actually just talking about heading home," Ginny said, breaking their momentary silence.

"It's hardly half nine," Ron observed. "I guess being married a year and a half has aged you."

"I'm a new man now," Harry said. "We go to bed at ten on Saturdays and spend our Sundays reading the paper and cleaning the house."

"And answering your fan mail?" Ron asked casually. Harry shot him a scowl. Sadly, Ron's addition was not really a joke. Although letters from admirers were no longer delivered to his home address, they still came in large quantities and made him fairly uncomfortable.

"You laugh now, but wait 'til your wedding announcement runs in the Prophet. The Chosen One's best friends getting married should cause quite the uproar," Ginny said as she stood up. "It's been a lovely night, but we really were going to head out."

"You'll be at ours for brunch before we leave tomorrow, yes?" Hermione asked as she embraced her new sister-in-law.

"Wouldn't miss it," Harry answered as he mimicked his wife and pulled Hermione into a hug and kissed her cheek lightly. "Take care of Ron, now. Break his heart and I'll hurt you, and all that."

"Good to see where your priorities lie," Hermione joked.

"Well what did you expect? We've been friends longer," Ron said as he and Harry clapped each other's shoulders in a strange sort of man-hug.

"Of course, I've been around two months less than twelve years. How will I ever catch up?" Hermione drawled sarcastically.

"I wouldn't take it personally," Ginny said. "The sheer amount of moping that went on after Ron moved out of Grimmauld Place was enough to convince me that theirs is truly a bond that can never be broken."

"Well when you put it that way it just sounds weird!" Ron protested, and the group fell into uproarious laughter.

A moment later, the four said their goodbyes and Ron collapsed back into his chair. "C'mere," he said lazily, pulling Hermione's hand toward him. She took a seat sideways across his lap, shuffling around a bit to try to arrange the train of her dress in a semi-intelligent way. He wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned his head toward her while she ran her fingers through his hair. Five years later and she still couldn't believe how soft it was.

After a minute, Ron lifted his head to look at her. "You're beautiful. If I forget everything else about this whole spectacle, I'll always remember how bloody amazing you looked walking down that aisle."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you. I'll never forget the look on your face. It was adorable."

"Adorable?" Ron raised his eyebrows.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, husband, but sometimes you can be adorable."

"Mmm. Call me husband again," Ron said cheekily.

Hermione made a show of rolling her eyes, but she couldn't shake her smile. "I've got the rest of my life to call you my husband." She leaned down to kiss him then, which he gladly reciprocated.

If someone had told Hermione Granger that she'd marry Ron Weasley that day on the train twelve years past, she'd have told that person to stop being ridiculous. They'd had to overcome so many obstacles before they even considered becoming more than friends that to say the odds had been stacked against them would be an understatement. Even their first kiss had been shared at a time when they were virtually hopeless. But it was this, the fact that they were _alive_ and in love and married and surrounded by people that cared about them, this was what they'd been fighting for, and Hermione wouldn't change a single thing about the journey they'd taken to get here.

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you thought and if you'd like to hear more. Of course, I'll continue to post what I've got, but feedback makes the process a bit smoother! :)

Fun facts about this chapter: Ron and Hermione's wedding day, 21 June 2003, was the day that OOTP was released.

If you'd like to check out the two one-shots I have posted already, they can be found on my profile. If you'd like to follow me on tumblr, the link to that can be found on my profile as well. I love interacting with other Potterheads and Romione shippers like myself, so please feel free to PM me or message me on tumblr if you feel so inclined.

To balance out my shameless self-promotion, I'll recommend that you read "Sunday" by the lovely HalfASlug. It's Romione fluff at its finest!

Thanks again! The first proper chapter, which will jump back in the past five years, will be up by this weekend at the very latest. It's completely written, just needs another edit or two. :)


	2. Kiss

A/N: A massive thank you to everyone that's read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert thus far. It's really gratifying to see such a positive reaction already. Hopefully the rest of the story will not disappoint!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter because if I did, I would not have student loans. But alas, I am not J.K. Rowling and I do have student loans. On the plus side, I have fruit snacks.

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"The First Kiss (During Which There's Not a War Going On)"

8 May 1998

It had been the second longest day of the longest week of the longest year of Hermione's life, and it wasn't over yet. Fred Weasley's funeral had been a solemn affair, the culmination of a tense and emotional week. It was strange, Hermione thought, how much could change in just seven days. One week ago, Voldemort was still murdering muggleborns. One week ago, they didn't know Harry was a horcrux. One week ago, they thought Snape was a Death Eater. One week ago, Fred was still alive. One week ago, Remus and Tonks were tending to Teddy. One week ago, Hermione had never seen Ron Weasley cry. Now, Voldemort was gone. Now, Harry had died, and then come back to save them all less than an hour later. Now, they knew that Snape had been perhaps the most courageous of them all. Now, Fred was gone. Now, Teddy was an orphan. And now, Hermione had seen Ron cry twice, most recently several hours ago as they laid Fred to rest.

Although the funeral was one of the most heartbreaking things Hermione had ever witnessed, the celebration of Fred's life that followed was as filled with hope as anyone could have wished it to be under the present circumstances. The show of fireworks set off by a teary-eyed but laughing George combined with copious amounts of firewhiskey had led to a level of festivity that would have made Fred proud. Although the raw grief that had been the dominating emotion for the past week was not far from anyone's minds, tears of mourning had gradually turned to tears of mirth as countless stories of Fred were recalled all around by the dozens of family members and friends that were crammed into the ground level of the Burrow. Hermione, having opted to consume butterbeer rather than the more potent Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, was splitting her time between observing the events with amusement from her position at the kitchen table and keeping an eye on a slightly intoxicated Ron, who was currently across the room chatting loudly and amicably with Charlie and Hagrid.

While she was glad that Ron seemed now to be in high spirits, Hermione knew that to say the past week had been very difficult for him would be an understatement. In the hours following the war, they'd spent almost the entirety of their time together. They were normally with Harry or Ginny, helping to clean up the grounds, but they'd had a bit of time on their own to talk, mostly about the war. It was during one of these talks that Hermione had seen Ron cry for the first time. She hadn't known how to handle it, so she had simply sat with him, held his hand, and cried too. Neither of them had spoken of it afterwards, and upon their arrival at the Burrow two days after the battle, Ron had taken to spending almost all of his time either alone in his room or degnoming the garden, the latter of which was a cumbersome and undesirable task considering how many weeks the house had been abandoned. Hermione supposed these were his ways of grieving, and therefore chose not to pester him. Although she wished he would open up and talk to her, she remembered all too well his reprimands back in their fifth and sixth years. He had insisted back then that it would not do to force Harry to talk about the deaths of Sirius or Cedric. So, in the days after the death of Fred, she decided it would be best to follow Ron's own advice and allow him his space, which was precisely the reason she was observing him from across the room rather than standing supportively at his side.

Although this was not the ideal arrangement, Hermione couldn't allow herself to be too upset. He wasn't entirely pushing her away, after all. In every moment that he wasn't hiding up in his room, he was virtually glued to her side. Often he would put an arm around her shoulders as they sat together, and he had taken to offering tight hugs before bed each night. And during Fred's service, his hand had gripped hers so tightly it was as if they had been fused together. While selfishly she had hoped that their kiss during the battle would have immediately changed their relationship, she knew that romance must be the furthest thing from his mind right now. So much had been going on since their mutual best friend had ended a war that had begun before any of them had been born. Ron and Hermione had barely had time to process what had happened, let alone get up to anything…_else_.

As a result, they had not shared another kiss since the battle. A year ago, this might have made Hermione feel insecure (which she still did, if she was being honest with herself), but the look he had given her after she kissed him in the Room of Requirement was enough to assure her that he did indeed feel the same way she did. Hermione had waited years for him to show definitive signs of returning her feelings, and now that he had, she knew she could handle waiting a few days, or even weeks, for the feelings to materialize into a relationship. She sensed a sort of understanding between them, an understanding that there would be a "them" once the dust had settled. It was inevitable now, only a matter of time. Trying to start a relationship in the wake of a war was never going to be an easy task. After all, nothing between them had ever been particularly easy, but it _was_ worth it.

As she pondered these things while watching Ron closely (strictly in order to watch for any signs of overindulgence, she had to remind herself), his eyes made contact with hers from across the crowded room. She blushed at having been caught staring, but his face only brightened at the sight of her. He jerked his head slightly, an invitation for her to join him, which she quickly obliged. If he was willing to let her in, she'd be damned if she'd pass up the opportunity—she had done just that far too many times in their youth, and Hermione Granger was not one to make the same mistake repetitively. She strode purposefully across the room and stopped at Ron's side. When she reached him, he immediately wrapped one of his long arms around her shoulders and gave her a quick but affectionate squeeze. "I was just telling this lot about spew and your ideas about magical creatures—sorry, beings'—rights," he said proudly with a slight slur in his voice.

Hermione's immediate instinct was to correct him on the proper pronunciation of S.P.E.W., but she held her tongue when she turned to face Ron and saw that he was beaming at her as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. The part of her that was still an eighteen year old girl caused her to blush again, and she appreciatively leaned into him a bit. "You were talking about me?" she asked softly, touched by the fact that he'd even mentioned S.P.E.W. in a serious context.

"'Course I was. You're Hermione Granger and you're bloody brilliant. why wouldn't I wanna talk about you? But Charlie was just saying he's got mates that used to work for the magical creatures department of the ministry, and once it's back up and running you could do some real damage! Well, not damage, but, but…" he trailed off, still looking at her in a way that made her cheeks redden.

Hagrid nodded his agreement. "Never really thought you were interested in magical creatures, but I s'pose someone's got ter do the legislatin' bit of it and you know a lot more than any of those dunderheads in the ministry."

Hermione smiled only a little uncomfortably at Hagrid's praise and then glanced at Charlie, who was clearly handling his alcohol better than Ron and was regarding his youngest brother with amusement. "And Ron's right, you know, I do have some friends that could help get you in the door if that's what you want to do," Charlie told her, "and according to Ron here, the sun basically shines out of your arse, so you'd do a lot of good to that department. They'd love to have you."

"OI, don't talk about her arse!" Ron shouted, in what Hermione could only guess was supposed to be a valiant tone, pointing a threatening finger at his brother. "And watch yourself, m'lady doesn't like swearing, she takes the bloody piss out of me when I do it."

"Honestly Ron, I can handle hearing rude words," Hermione said, not missing the irony of his outburst, as Charlie and Hagrid positively howled at Ron's casual use of the term "m'lady."

"Can't say any though, can you?" Ron challenged her, raising his eyebrows.

"You know perfectly well that I have no problem telling you when _you're_ being an arse," she responded primly.

Ron looked positively giddy at the sound of her using such language, and proceeded to giggle madly and bury his head into her neck, undoubtedly getting a mouthful of her wild hair. As if her face weren't already red enough.

"But honestly, you ought to watch your language," she muttered, the prefect inside of her taking over.

"You said arse," came Ron's muffled voice in her right ear.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Perhaps Ron was a little beyond_ slightly _intoxicated. Hagrid's chuckles continued to shake the chair he was gripping, but Charlie noticed Hermione's discomfort and had the decency to compose himself quickly. He shook his head in amusement as he said, "I wish you the best of luck, Hermione. He's a bit of a handful, but he's completely mad about you. And if you need any career advice, you know where to find me. I'm sure you'd be brilliant." With that, he went off to join Harry, Ginny, and Lee Jordan in a rather lively debate about the legality of various Quidditch fouls.

Meanwhile, Ron had apparently become quite overcome with affection for Hermione; in the moments since Charlie had left, he'd managed to wrap his right arm around her waist as well, pulling her firmly into him. His face was somehow buried even further into her shoulder, and he still seemed to be giggling and hiccupping. Hermione carefully extricated one of her arms and placed it on his back in an effort to keep them steady, for Ron would undoubtedly stumble a bit if he tried to move, and she was supporting quite a bit of his weight.

The tears that had been in Hagrid's eyes for the majority of the day seemed to thicken as he regarded them fondly and said, "Always knew it'd be you two. I remember the first day yeh came into my hut, bickerin' 'bout this an' that. Reminded me of his parents," he jerked his head in Ron's direction, "Harry's too, a bit." With that, Hagrid lost his composure, smothered them in a bone-crushing embrace (during which Hermione doubted she could possibly be any more uncomfortable), and then he too left them.

When, a couple seconds later, Hermione noticed what felt suspiciously like Ron's lips pressing into her neck, she decided that enough was enough and nudged him up off her shoulder, pulling away from his embrace and taking his drink from him.

"Oi, I wasn't done with that," he protested, grabbing halfheartedly and unsuccessfully at the half-empty glass. "I think you've had quite enough," Hermione responded calmly, vanishing the contents of the glass and casting a quick 'aguamenti' charm. "Water will be kinder to you come morning."

Ron pouted but obeyed, gulping down the water in a single mouthful and then handing it back to Hermione to be refilled. It became evident in the hour that followed that the switch to water was a good decision. Ron seemed to have calmed down and was no longer acting as brazen as before. He did, however, stay close to Hermione as they mingled with the guests, keeping a hand either on the small of her back or enclosed in her own. It was about half ten (they had just finished speaking with Luna about the effect she believed the nargles had played in Voldemort's downfall) when Hermione felt Ron lean down and mutter into her ear, slurring only a little now, "I haven't seen George in awhile."

She turned her head to look at him questioningly. "Do you think he's alright?"

"Dunno," Ron responded, "but I think I'm gonna go check outside for him. Cover for us, will you? I don't reckon he'd want Mum to worry."

Hermione nodded and gave his hand what she hoped was an encouraging squeeze. He smiled widely at her again, dropping a wet kiss on her left cheek, and turned to slip quietly out the back door. She kept her eyes on the door through which he'd left a little longer than necessary, before smiling to herself and turning on her heel to talk to Ginny, who mercifully did not acknowledge the elder girl's expression other than raising her eyebrow and exchanging a knowing smile with Harry.

It was nearly midnight before the majority of the guests began to clear out, and Ron and George still had not returned. Hermione was becoming increasingly worried by the minute; she had thought that Ron wouldn't be gone longer than half an hour. Mrs. Weasley had noticed the absence of her sons by this point, and she was continuously casting anxious glances out the window.

After Andromeda Tonks and Teddy bid their goodbyes, thus leaving the semi-permanent residents of the house to themselves, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley joined Hermione, Ginny, Harry, and Percy at the kitchen table. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie had gone back to Shell Cottage so as not to crowd the Burrow. It was an unspoken rule that no one would be sleeping in the twins' old room, so George had taken over Bill and Charlie's old room. As she took her seat, Mrs. Weasley looked at the others questioningly. Everyone knew what she wanted to know, and everyone had a fairly accurate guess as to what the answer was, but no one seemed willing to speak.

Finally, Hermione cleared her throat and said in a forced and awkwardly high voice, "Ron and George just went to get some air. I expect they'll be in shortly." A murmur of acknowledgement swept the table, and the group then fell into a tense silence, save for the sound of Percy nervously tapping his foot, Ginny drumming her fingers on the table, and Mrs. Weasley taking deep, calming breaths while clutching her husband's hand, which was lying on her shoulder. Harry, meanwhile, was staring straight ahead with a hard expression.

Any lightheartedness that had been brought about by reminiscing had long since gone; it was as though the absence of Ron and George had pulled the group sharply back to reality. Hermione, figuring that for once there was nothing else she could be doing, settled her gaze on the door and began to wait.

As the minutes dragged by, Hermione's anxiety level began to rise. If there was one thing Hermione felt she could not handle well, it was a situation in which she was not in control. Watching Ron and his family mourn in the days following Fred's death had been difficult, and being unable to do anything to make the situation better had left Hermione feeling useless and worse than she already did. Although the Weasleys were some of the strongest, bravest people she'd ever known, and Hermione had no doubt that they could and would make it through the hardships that had befallen them, there was no getting around the fact that their family was no longer whole, but broken. She wanted nothing more than to be able to fix everything, but unfortunately, there was not a single book in any library that could help Hermione find a solution to this problem. And now, there was nothing she could do but sit at the table and stare at the door, waiting for Ron to bring his brother back.

After about ten minutes, the sound of rain pattering on the roof could be heard. Mrs. Weasley stood and crossed the room, looking out the window frantically. "Oh, I do hope they had their wands," she fretted. "Maybe I should go fetch them."

"I wouldn't, Molly," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "We said we didn't want to push him."

Molly met his eyes and nodded grimly. "Alright, but only ten more minutes. I've already lost one son this week; I'm not letting another two freeze to death." As much as she tried to cover it, no one missed the catch in her voice as she finished her sentence. Mr. Weasley joined her at the window and pulled her into an embrace, and the room was once again silent.

Nine more tense minutes passed, and Hermione's nerves had shot through the roof. The Weasley parents were just beginning to gather their cloaks when at last, the door opened. All the occupants of the kitchen stood up in anticipation.

George entered the kitchen, followed closely by Ron. Clearly they had not bothered to use their wands to keep dry, as they were both sopping wet, tracking mud into the kitchen in a way that would have made Mrs. Weasley irate on any other day. Tonight, however, she simply choked back tears and pulled each of her sons into a tight embrace.

Hermione noticed that both Ron and George had red-rimmed eyes, and she wondered briefly if that was the result of crying or of the alcohol. More likely than not, she thought, it was a mixture of the two. Hermione had to wonder what had happened between the two brothers, but she knew that asking was out of the question. Whatever had been said or done, both of the boys (no, _men_) seemed to be carrying themselves differently. It was hard to define, but it seemed to Hermione that their heads were held a bit higher than before.

Once he'd be released by his mother, Ron's eyes drifted to Hermione. She gave him a smile that she had intended to be encouraging, but that felt strangled and half-hearted. With an indefinable expression on his face, Ron strode toward her with more confidence and purpose than ever before. Before she could register what was happening, he had kissed her, chastely but purposefully, full on the mouth. It lasted a little longer than was perhaps proper when in front of one's parents, but nevertheless, it was over before Hermione had the time to fully react and appreciate the strange contrast between the warmth of his mouth and the coolness of the rain on his skin. Any misgivings she might have had regarding their relationship were erased when he pulled back and croaked in a slightly slurred but serious voice, "I love you, Hermione." Before she could respond in kind, he'd bent down, kissed her soundly once more, and then set off up the stairs for bed, leaving her to stand in the kitchen, wide-eyed in shock.

Apparently this had been the last straw for Mrs. Weasley, who immediately burst into tears and smothered Hermione in a hug. Ginny had an annoyingly smug but pleased look on her face. When she turned to Harry for an explanation, he merely said, "I've seen worse," in a resigned voice before swiftly kissing Ginny on the cheek and following Ron upstairs.

Hermione spent a considerable portion of the night that followed wondering if Ron would even remember the details of what had happened. Although Ron did look like hell the next morning, she was greeted with a kiss on the cheek as he sat next to her at the kitchen table and reached to spread jam on her toast for her. From that moment on, Hermione Granger became Ron Weasley's girlfriend, because there are some things you can't share without ending up falling in love with each other, and spending seven years bickering and exchanging embarrassed but charged glances, all while helping your mutual best friend defeat a psychotic dark wizard, is one of them.

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"Borderline Rant But Necessary" A/N:

"Fun" fact about this chapter—I've been constantly writing, editing, and rewriting it for more than four months. Compare this to the prologue, which was written, edited, and posted within three or four days.

I've always been fairly content with this chapter, but I could never quite get it down perfectly. Part of that stemmed from the fact that it was in Hermione's POV and she just wouldn't stop thinking, which makes for a lot of long paragraphs, haha. But mainly, imagining what went on directly after the war is a bit abstract since I've obviously never been in remotely the same situation, so I drew a lot on my own personal experiences with losing loved ones, and hopefully I've done the characters justice. I tried to balance the raw grief and pain with a bit of tangible hope and lightheartedness throughout.

Please let me know what you think, agree or disagree! The next chapter is also fully written and should be up in the first half of next week. Thanks for reading. :)


	3. Sleep

A/N: Thanks once again to everyone that's taken the time to review, favorite, and put this story on alert. I really do appreciate all of you, and if I were rich, I would buy you all ponies. Or whatever other cute animal you like. Personally, I like bunnies.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and I own two pillow pets. Who's the real winner?

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"The First Time They Slept Together (Sort Of)"

13 June 1998

Hermione had fully intended to go to Australia to retrieve her parents alone. How it had turned into a holiday of sorts with nearly half the Weasley clan, she really wasn't sure. When she had originally discussed her plans with Ron, he had immediately insisted upon coming with her. She hadn't planned on asking him, especially considering that only now, just more than a month after the Battle of Hogwarts, was life beginning to return to some semblance of normal. The Weasleys had coped admirably following the death of Fred, but it was clear that they would never truly move on, and certainly not so soon. However, Ron was adamant that he did not want Hermione traveling to the other side of the world by herself. They had bickered about this only briefly, until Ron said that he knew she _could_ do it herself, he would just feel better if he could come along and ensure that nothing would go wrong. "Besides," he'd said, "we've only got a few months before you're back at Hogwarts, and I want to spend as much of it snogging you as I possibly can."

Hermione had rolled her eyes at this, but relented without much argument. It would be nice, she reasoned, to have someone there for support in case things didn't go as planned. There was, of course, the added benefit that they would be more likely to get some time alone together once they were in a different hemisphere than the rest of their friends and family.

Since they'd officially gotten together, Ron and Hermione had barely found time to do more than share a few stolen kisses and the occasional heated snog in between attempting to rebuild the wizarding world and working through the grief that had accompanied the end of the war. Even their conversations were rarely held alone, and those that were lasted merely a few minutes. Although the downfall of Voldemort had marked the end of virtually all the fighting, the reconstruction effort hadn't been particularly peaceful. The weeks that had passed since that fateful May morning had been frightfully busy, and there was still much to be done in the coming months.

Provided that the rigorous timetable for rebuilding set by now-Headmistress McGonagall was kept, Hogwarts was set to reopen on schedule in September, and Hermione planned on returning when it did. While both she and Ron knew she wouldn't really be Hermione Granger unless she completed her education, neither was exceptionally excited about the prospect of being apart for the better part of ten months, and they were trying to make the most out of the rest of the summer. Setting her parents' memories right wouldn't quite be a romantic getaway, but there would certainly be fewer distractions than there were at home. Although she would probably never admit it aloud, Hermione really was looking forward to spending time with Ron and, perhaps, finally finding the time to act like the teenagers they had never been able to be.

However, once the others had gotten wind of their plans, it had immediately been determined that under no circumstances would the two of them be making the journey alone. Harry had insisted that he owed it to them to come along and help, and though Ron and Hermione had told him repeatedly that they didn't need him to do this, neither had the heart to tell him that they didn't particularly _want_ him there this time. This had made them both feel incredibly guilty, but the truth of the matter was that while Harry would always be their best friend, there were some things they'd rather do alone.

At any rate, he refused to hear their objections, and once Harry became involved, it was decided that Ginny would accompany them as well so that Hermione would have someone to stay in her hotel room with her. Hermione thought it best not to suggest that she really had no qualms setting up a cot in the boys' room. Not only would that likely be considered improper, but now that Ginny, who had only recently forgiven Harry for the events of the past year, had it in her head that she was going, there was no way she'd allow them to leave her behind again.

Because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not particularly feel up to making the trip, they were sending Bill and Fleur in their stead to essentially act as chaperones. While the Weasleys were by no means strict disciplinarians, they had not been particularly thrilled at the idea of their youngest children spending two weeks in Australia alone with their significant others. It had taken long enough for Ron and Ginny (especially the latter, as she was not yet of age) to convince their parents to allow them to go at all, so there was little backlash regarding the decision to include Bill and Fleur.

While Hermione thought that the couple would be more likely to spend time in their own bedroom rather than chaperoning their charges, she was grateful for the help the elder witch and wizard provided. Although Bill had little experience with memory charms, his knowledge as a curse breaker had given her some background on the best way to go about recovering her parents' memories. Because she hadn't actually used the Obliviate charm, but rather a weakened version of it, they had been able to determine what was most likely the correct process of undoing the spell with far less trouble than Hermione had originally anticipated.

Fleur, on the other hand, turned out to be perhaps the best protector the Weasleys could have sent. She steered them away from various hecklers at the many international portkey stations they stopped at during their voyage south, and screamed in rapid French at several journalists that had attempted to get in their way. Although Voldemort hadn't extended his regime much past Britain, the ramifications had been universal and Harry was apparently famous _everywhere_. And, though nobody said it out loud, it was comforting to have two more experienced adults along as well due to the fact that not every Death Eater had been caught yet. Although the few that had yet to be incarcerated were not expected to leave Britain for risk of being caught, every member of the party kept their eyes open. Constant vigilance, as Mad-Eye would have said. By the time they'd finally arrived in Australia, the group had the energy to do no more than check into the hotel and fall into their respective beds.

The next couple of days were filled with tracking down Hermione's parents, a task which turned out to be relatively straightforward considering they were working for a dental practice that was within walking distance of the hotel, and determining the best course of action for restoring their memories. Hermione had quickly realized that she was really quite fortunate that so many people had felt the need to accompany her; the plan they had devised required each of them to play a role. It was decided that Fleur and Ginny would act as patients, each scheduling an appointment with one of the Drs. Granger. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, would monitor and, if necessary, distract the other dentists as well as the receptionist to ensure that no one would interrupt while Hermione and Bill, who planned to enter the practice through the back door while under the invisibility cloak, would work to restore each of the Grangers' memories as quickly as possible.

Ideally, the entire operation would take less than half an hour. However, as usual with their plans, Hermione could think only of the million and one ways it could all go wrong. She had spent no less than three hours going over every detail of the operation until Ron had declared that he'd had enough. Moments later, Hermione found herself sitting on the floor of Harry and Ron's hotel room surrounded not by a sketch of the dental practice, but instead by Harry, Ron, and Ginny (Bill and Fleur had predictably retreated to their room hours earlier). The four were sharing a couple bottles of the cheapest wine the hotel had on its room service menu and playing a rather rowdy game of exploding snap. As the cards blew up on him once again, Harry took another swig of the wine and made a face. "I think butterbeer's got more alcohol in it than this," he said.

"Well obviously, or Hermione wouldn't be drinking it," Ginny quipped.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just enough to take the edge off, and I don't think any of you fancy a hangover tomorrow."

"If you'd just teach us the sobriety charm, we wouldn't need to think about it anyways," Ron reminded her, tapping her knee lightly with his fingertips from his position sprawled on his stomach next to her.

"If you choose to overindulge, you're accepting the consequences," Hermione responded primly, doing her best not to react to the physical contact.

"Aw, c'mon. Doesn't it seem like such a waste, not teaching us all the spells we could possibly know?" Ron teased, smirking at her.

"Oh, honestly. If you want to learn more spells, I could come up with at least forty that are more useful than a sobriety charm." Hermione countered, returning his teasing smile.

"Oh? _Do_ enlighten us, Professor Granger," he said, his eyes lighting up as they engaged in their wonderfully familiar pattern of meaningless bickering.

"Well," she began, "if you'd like to learn alcohol-related charms, I'd really suggest you look into Ogden's work on magically alterable potency. They're very tricky, but they'd have been useful considering how lackluster you all seem to find the wine we've got. Contrarily, you could reduce the alcohol content in stronger drinks if you desire," she finished rather smugly.

Ron only raised his eyebrows, laughing and shaking his head in disbelief. "Amazing. Every time, she knows everything. Can you believe this?" he asked the others.

Ginny simply turned to Harry and asked, "Have they been like this all year?"

Harry let out a short laugh. "You know they've always been like this. Probably always will be." Hermione blushed at the implications of Harry's words. A quick glance at Ron revealed that he had not missed the casual mention of their future; the tips of his ears matched his hair.

"Not quite this bad though," Ginny said to Harry, gathering the remaining cards and piling them up. "There's normally less of the goofy smiling."

"I'm sure we don't know what you're talking about," Ron said in his best impression of what he called Hermione's 'prefect tone', which caused her to smack him lightly on the arm and roll her eyes. Ron sat up and turned to her, a broad smile on his face (a smile she was beginning to realize was designated solely for her), and kissed her quickly and chastely on the side of the mouth.

"OI! Just because I've given you my permission!" Ginny barked in a clear imitation of Ron, who responded with a rude hand gesture.

At that moment, Harry let out a loud yawn through his laughter, signaling the end of the night's festivities. Ginny and Hermione briefly kissed their respective boyfriends good night, each of the boys pretending that they were oblivious to what the other was doing, and they then retired to their own room.

Hermione wasn't particularly tired, but she knew she'd need sleep before what was sure to be an emotionally taxing day. As she changed into her blue pajama shorts and an old black t-shirt of Ron's, which she had shamelessly stolen from the beaded bag with no protest from him, Ginny spoke to her from across their room: "Hermione, you know I'm just taking the piss, yeah? I love seeing you and Ron so happy after all the utter idiocy that occurred during your Hogwarts years."

Hermione laughed as she flopped down on her bed and replied, "Yes, I know. And you know Ron and I are glad you and Harry have worked things out as well. It's just strange for him."

"I reckon everything's going to be a bit strange from now on, but it feels right all the same," Ginny said thoughtfully, "for the most part, anyhow."

Hermione did not need clarification to know what she was referring to. The loss of Fred had, of course, been a touchy subject for everyone, and Hermione didn't know quite how to approach it with either Ron or Ginny. After hesitating a moment, Hermione addressed her closest female friend tentatively but earnestly, "How _are_ you, Ginny?"

She recognized the hard look in the younger girl's eyes, having seen it many times in the past. This was a look of determination: the determination to be _okay_, the determination not to show any weakness. "I'm going to be fine. I'm feeling very blessed, really," Ginny said slowly, "to be here with all of you. But I think it's always going to feel like something's missing, not matter what I'm doing, and there's nothing any of us can do to change that."

Hermione nodded understandingly as she asked, "Does it help to talk about it?"

"Yes and no," Ginny said. "It doesn't really make anything better, but neither does drowning in my own thoughts." She was quiet for a moment, before adding: "George told me the other day that he's going to start working on the shop in July. He wants Ron and me to help him. You and Harry would be welcome as well, I'm sure. He doesn't want to admit it, but he could use the support."

Hermione gave a small smile, "I'd be glad to help. It'll probably be good for him to get out of the Burrow as well, don't you think?"

"Probably," Ginny replied, "but I don't think he's going to be jumping to move back into their old flat either. He knows Fred wouldn't want him moping about though. He'd want us to _live_, y'know? He wouldn't want us to give up everything he never had the chance to have."

Hermione sniffed loudly as she smiled at the memory of Fred, willing herself not to cry when Ginny was holding herself together so well. The girls drifted into their own thoughts for a few moments before bidding each other good night and turning out the lights.

While Ginny was breathing deeply within twenty minutes, Hermione laid awake far longer. Thoughts of Fred, Remus, Tonks, the war, her parents, and Ron drifted restlessly through her head, rendering her unable to sleep. The emotion overtaking her thoughts, though, was anxiety about the task she was to complete the next day.

Although she hadn't admitted it aloud, Hermione was terrified that she would be unable to properly restore her parents' memories. She had discussed the theory with Bill at great length, but she knew that contrary to the beliefs of one Dolores Umbridge, one could not perform satisfactory magic based on theory alone. On a more personal level, she was also wary of her parents' reactions to what she'd done to them. While they were generally rational and understanding people, they'd never fully trusted everything in the magical world, and there was no getting around the fact that Hermione had used her powers against them. She knew that her intentions were in the right place and she would absolutely do it over again, but she was almost certain it would take a long discussion to bring her parents to see the situation from her perspective. While her mother would likely try to be tactful, her father had the tendency to be very blunt about what he perceived to be the truth. Considering that she also had to tell them that she'd spent the past year as one of the most wanted people in the country and had traveled alone with two boys, who were the other two most wanted people in the country, on what they'd all viewed as a suicide mission, during which they'd brushed very near to death countless times, Hermione knew that her reunion with her parents would likely be a strange mixture of relief and tension.

She tossed and turned for well over an hour, dwelling on these thoughts, before she gave up sleep as a lost cause. Craving human company and comfort, Hermione rose quietly from her bed and tiptoed to the door that was adjoined to Harry and Ron's room. Careful not to wake the now lightly snoring Ginny, she opened the door to her room and rapped lightly on the door to theirs. Her efforts gained no response. After waiting a couple of moments, she tried again, only to be met with more silence. She was about to climb back into bed when the boys' door opened a crack, revealing a groggy freckled face.

"Hermione?" Ron breathed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she whispered, "I just couldn't sleep. I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, it's fine. I wasn't asleep anyways." The yawn he let out as he said this gave him away immediately. Hermione considered it a sign of the conditions they'd lived under for the past year that he had woken so easily to her gentle knocking.

"No, really, I'll just lie back down—"

"Do you want to come in and chat a bit?" he asked, cutting her off. "I really don't mind. I promise I can be aggravating enough to tire you out."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Well, if you don't mind—"

Ron immediately stepped out of the way, ushering her into his room and closing the door behind them quietly. He left a hesitant Hermione at the door as he crossed the room to his own bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard, before looking up at her expectantly.

Hermione bit her lip before crossing the room and taking the other side of the bed. While only the sides of their legs were touching, she couldn't help but feel that there was something strangely intimate about their current situation. Harry remained fast asleep on his own bed, and Ron grabbed his wand from off the bedside table to cast a Muffliato charm. "Now we don't have to whisper," he said, although his voice was still quiet. "So what's got you up?"

Hermione sighed, unsure about how much she wanted to tell him. Although she realized it was very hypocritical of her to want to keep everything in when it was she that often scolded her friends for doing the same thing, she really didn't want to worry Ron unnecessarily. "I was just thinking," she answered at last.

"Imagine that," he laughed. "What about?"

"Just everything, I guess," she answered. "My parents mostly. I'm a bit anxious about tomorrow, to be honest."

"You don't need to be. If anyone can undo the charm properly, it's you." She met his earnest eyes fully for the first time since she entered the room and smiled slightly at his praise.

In that moment, Hermione felt an overwhelming sense of trust and love for the man sitting next to her. Looking back on the years they'd been friends, Hermione realized that it had always been this way; he'd always been the one she could talk to regarding just about anything—other than their respective love lives, of course. Ginny was a lovely friend who understood things the boys just couldn't, and Harry was like her brother, but it wasn't the same with either of them. She had never been as close to Ginny, and Harry had so many of his own problems that Hermione had never quite felt comfortable unloading her worries on him. Since they were eleven, Ron had listened to even her most paranoid fears. Of course, he'd let her know when he thought she was being mental, but he'd always been there and he'd always listened.

"I know I _can_," she said slowly, "but it doesn't stop me from worrying something will go wrong. It's what comes after that's really got me nervous though."

"And why's that?" he prompted.

"I know I did the right thing sending them here. I just don't know if they'll see it that way," she admitted. "They've never really understood magic, you know. I guess I'm just nervous to see what their reactions will be when they realize what I've done."

"That's barmy," Ron said immediately. "If they're half as smart as you are, they'll know you didn't have another choice."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think they realized how serious it was. They thought Dumbledore passed of old age, Ron, and I didn't have the courage to explain otherwise. I _lied_ to them for years about what had been going on."

"You were protecting them," Ron said fiercely. "They're your parents, Hermione, they'll understand. Besides, if anyone's got a reason to be nervous around them, it's me." The grin that appeared on his face as he finished speaking made it clear that he thought it was about time they lighten the mood.

"And why's that?" Hermione asked shrewdly, wrinkling up her nose as she smiled at him.

"I'm the man in their only daughter's life, of course. Aren't I supposed to be every parent's worst nightmare?" Ron was smiling, but Hermione could see a bit of uncertainty in his expression.

"I hardly think the fact that their eighteen year old daughter's finally got a boyfriend is going to be a huge matter of concern for them," Hermione replied.

Ron adopted a faux wounded expression as he said indignantly, "But I'm devilishly handsome and capable of seducing you with a simple look!"

Hermione laughed, determined never to admit that there was a bit of truth in the latter half of his statement, "And I'm capable of hexing you, so I don't think they need to worry," she said sweetly.

"That's absolutely true," Ron said solemnly, able to keep a straight face only for a moment before they both succumbed to their suppressed laughter.

"I was thinking you should meet them properly," Hermione said thoughtfully once she'd calmed down. "Once they're settled back home, that is."

"That sounds utterly terrifying," Ron said, half-teasingly and half-seriously, eliciting a laugh from Hermione. "Is that all that's got you up, then?"

"No," Hermione responded, hesitating again. In the weeks since Fred's funeral, Ron had opened up to her about the subject several times, but she knew it wasn't his favorite topic of discussion. Most of their discussions, though fairly open, were clipped and brief.

She tried to keep her tone light as she said, "Ginny and I had a bit of a chat before bed. She was talking about—about Fred." Hermione felt Ron tense up beside her, but she kept talking slowly. "She was saying George is planning to reopen the shop soon after we get back to England."

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Ginny and I are gonna help. We know he wants us to, even if he's too proud to admit it publicly. I don't start training for the Aurors til January, and I figure I can find some time to help out on weekends after that too."

Hermione felt a rush of affection for Ron at his words. She laid her head on his shoulder and linked his arm through his as she replied, "That's so sweet of you."

He shrugged the shoulder she wasn't leaning on and adjusted his position on the bed to better accommodate her, moving his hand so that it was gripping the inside of her knee. "He's my brother. They're both my brothers," he said simply.

Hermione sniffed loudly, willing herself once again not to cry. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said softly.

"Nothing for you to be sorry for," he responded in a strained voice, indicating that he, too, was attempting to keep his emotions in check.

"I just wish there was more I could do," she replied.

"You've been here. That's helped more than you know," Ron said seriously.

"Where else would I be?" she replied, her voice wavering a bit.

"I dunno, probably with some smarmy bloke that's got _Hogwarts, A History_ memorized," Ron said, rubbing his thumb gently on her knee.

"It wouldn't work though, unless he was a lanky ginger with arachnophobia," Hermione said automatically, nuzzling further into his shoulder.

Ron was quiet a moment before replying in the most honest tone Hermione had ever heard him use, "I must be the luckiest bloke on the planet, to have a girl like you even remotely interested in someone like me."

Hermione lifted her head to look at him, frowning a bit. "What are you talking about? You're a good person, Ron. The best person I know, really. You're loyal, you're brave, you're funny, and however much you try to pretend you're not, you're very sweet when you want to be."

"I've also fucked up more often than I care to think about in the last seven years, 'specially when it comes to you," he countered. "I know I don't deserve so many chances, Hermione."

"You don't deserve it because you're not perfect? That doesn't make sense, Ron," Hermione reasoned. "You've made far more good choices than you have bad ones. Not everyone would follow their best friend to the ends of the earth and back before even becoming a proper adult."

"I left," he said in a low voice.

"You came back," she responded fiercely, "and both Harry and I forgave you a long time ago."

"We don't make sense on paper," he insisted, although there was now a ghost of a smile in his expression.

"We don't have to," she responded softly, taking a deep breath, "I love you, Ron, that's what really matters."

It did not escape Hermione's notice that this was the first time she'd said those three words to him. He had used the phrase twice, although never when he wasn't either dating another girl or very emotional and slightly intoxicated. She held her breath while she waited for his reaction.

It took him a minute to digest what she had said before a telltale grin spread slowly across his face. He closed the gap between them in an instant and kissed her, softly and slowly. All Hermione's thoughts and worries washed away immediately, as they tended to do when she kissed Ron, and for several blissful moments, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world.

When they finally broke apart for want of air, Ron breathed, "I love you too." Hermione couldn't help but giggle girlishly at his words.

"He always wanted me to get my head out of my arse and admit it to you. Fred did, I mean," Ron told her. "George too. That's some of what we talked about, last month after…y'know. And that's why I kissed you that night, 'cos George reminded me Fred would have had my head if you'd kissed me and I'd been too pigheaded to do anything about it. They even gave me a book for my birthday last year, after they heard about the mess I'd gotten myself into."

Hermione smiled, recalling the time last July that she'd found a curious looking book entitled _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ lying underneath Ron's bed while she'd been looking for clothes of his to wash and pack. Two weeks later, she'd seen it again underneath a stack of Harry's shirts. "You mean the one you read and then passed on to Harry?"

Ron's eyes widened in shock. "How the hell do you know everything?"

"I would think you'd be used to it by now," she quipped. "Did the book really help?"

"It taught me that girls like it when you say nice things about them," he replied proudly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And that wasn't common sense to you?"

"Oh, have your laugh. Sometimes a bloke just needs a swift kick in the right direction," Ron said indignantly.

"I suppose, but you must know you charmed me long before that book came along," she said honestly.

"Really? How long?"

Hermione paused for a moment, straining to remember the moment in which she'd realized her feelings. "I'm not really sure, but it must've started around third or fourth year. It wasn't any day or time in particular. I just remember realizing I felt very, very differently about you and Harry."

"It's funny. I always thought it'd be Harry," Ron said in a falsely casual voice that indicated he didn't really think it was funny at all.

Hermione scrunched her nose up, "Why on Earth would you think that?"

"It just made sense, y'know. He's the hero and the chosen one and all that. The two of you always got on so well," Ron said, refusing to meet her eyes.

Hermione gasped, "You're serious, aren't you? You really thought—"

"The locket didn't just scream," he interrupted. His gaze was now fixed on his right hand, curled into a fist on top of her knee, and his cheeks were a rosy shade of red. "When I destroyed it, I mean. It showed me terrible things, things it had been showing me the whole time we had the blasted thing. I always thought it was all true anyways, but the locket, it—it just made it worse." He paused and finally chanced a glance at her face.

Hermione swallowed thickly as she rubbed his arm in an attempt to be comforting. "Go on. You can tell me, Ron. You know you can tell me anything."

He took a deep breath before continuing, speaking very fast, "It's just that I've always been the youngest of six brothers, y'know? It felt like anything I did, one of them had already done it first and done it better. It was different for Ginny since she was the only girl. With so many kids in one house, there were times I felt like I was on the bottom of the priority list. And then you and Harry, you're both completely brilliant, and what was I? It was just—when I left, I thought you wouldn't miss me. I knew you could do it without me. The fact is you would have, if I hadn't made it back. I'd always thought the two of you were better suited for each other anyways, and I guess in my mind it seemed like you worried about him more than you did me. The locket…it taunted me with that sort of stuff all the time. And when I destroyed it, it showed me these…images. Of you and Harry, together…" his voice dropped off as he shuddered, a haunted look in his eyes. "I know it's not true, now. Harry set me straight about the last bit once I'd finished the thing off. Said you'd always been like his sister or something like that. It's just I never thought you'd want me, y'know, with the chosen one as a best mate and international Quidditch stars taking you to dances…I just kind of got things messed about in my own head, and the locket played off of that." Ron paused for a moment and chuckled humorlessly. "I dunno if I've ever talked that much straight. Too much time to think about this shite in that damned tent. Good to tell you, though."

Hermione was temporarily dumbstruck at the end of his speech. She'd known Ron hadn't had the most self-confidence in the world, but she hadn't dreamt it had troubled him to this magnitude, and even now she felt as though he was trying to hold in some of his emotions for her sake. This was not a situation she knew how to react to. Ron had never once been this open with her. She appreciated it more than he probably knew, but she really had no idea how to react to this or to the information itself.

After a long moment, she finally spoke: "I'm so sorry, Ron. I—I should have been clearer. If I ever showed more concern about Harry, it wasn't intentional. It's just both of us were always worried about him, you know? We really—we fell apart when you left. You mean so much to me, to both of us, I just—" she broke off, sniffing loudly and wiping furiously at her eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's fine," Ron said in a soothing voice, taking his hand off her knee and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I just created a ton of problems inside my head and couldn't see sense. You didn't know."

"No, I didn't," Hermione said, clutching his white pajama shirt with one of her hands, "but you're my best friend, so I should have."

"If you can forgive me for walking out on you, I've got no problem forgiving you for something that's not really your fault," he replied calmly.

"Well, you're never going to doubt this again," Hermione said determinedly, beginning to gain control of her emotions. "I'm not going to let a day go by without reminding you how much I love you." She pressed her lips against his quickly but firmly.

Ron grinned as he pulled back. "I think I can get used to that."

And then they were kissing again, _really_ kissing. As in "tongues and groping and moaning and never-ending" kissing. Hermione did not know how long they remained in a world that was entirely comprised of the two of them, and she couldn't recall how she ended up lying on her back with Ron hovering almost on top of her. They'd never had this intimate of a snog before; they'd never had enough time to themselves to do so, but Hermione decided then that she would go out of her way to _make_ time, because surely nothing else in the world could be as important or as amazing as this was.

When at last they broke apart, dazed and breathing heavily, Hermione couldn't form a coherent thought to save her life. Ron kissed her once more, chastely this time, then rolled so that he was lying next to her, their legs entangled together, and pulled her into his side; she responded by curling into him and resting a hand on his chest.

They were quiet for a while, simply staring into each other's eyes in a way that was ridiculously cheesy and only acceptable when two people are in love. Realistically, they would have made fun of themselves if they could have seen what they looked like in that moment, but they were too wrapped up in one another to care.

At last, Ron broke the silence, asking, "Can we just stay here forever? Not bother with you going back to Hogwarts or all of the stuff we've still got to fix?"

"If only we could," Hermione replied, "but we've got time now."

Ron nodded in agreement, "All the time in the world, really."

"I'm never going to say this again, but I'm really glad you ignored me, Ron," she murmured appreciatively. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here with me."

Ron responded by pulling her as close to him as was comfortably possible. "Will you stay tonight?" he asked.

"Where else would I be?" she answered, repeating her words from earlier.

Within minutes, the couple had fallen asleep in each other's arms. When a smirking Harry and Ginny woke them the next morning, neither Ron nor Hermione could be inclined to care about their not-so-subtle teasing, and they didn't even notice Bill and Fleur's knowing looks at breakfast because they were too busy exchanging goofy smiles. As Hermione left hand-in-hand with Ron for the dentist's office to change the Wilkinses back to the Grangers, she felt determination rather than anxiety. She was in love, and she felt as though she could conquer the world.

* * *

A/N: Fun fact about this chapter: it's set on my birthday. :) Not the actual day I was born, mind you, I am older than fourteen. Anyhow, I went and looked it up and apparently 13 June was a Saturday that year, and I don't know why they'd make dentist appointments for a Sunday, but I'd ask for some suspension of disbelief because this takes place in mid-June anyways and it's more fun to have it on my birthday.

This was one of my favorite chapters to write thus far. And it's almost as long as the two previous chapters combined! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Let me know what you think. :) The next chapter is almost ready to go and should be making an appearance at the end of the week.


	4. Dinner

A/N: As always, a huge thank you to everyone that's read, reviewed, favorited, or put this story on alert. You are all marvelous people. I can't believe there are already forty of you that get an e-mail every time I post a new chapter. I'm very flattered. :)

Shameless self-promotion time: I have a one-shot outtake I posted about a month ago entitled "More than Books and Biscuits" that is meant to take place between the last chapter and this one. It's obviously not a necessity that you read it, but if you haven't, it does explain a couple of minor plot points that are referenced in this chapter. If you're interested, you can find it on my profile. If not, feel free to forget I mentioned it and I promise not to be offended. Of course, I'd be eternally grateful if you did read it and let me know what you think of it.

Disclaimer: If I am not J.K. Rowling, then I do not own Harry Potter. I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. I have, however, put this disclaimer into valid argument form (I think) in an effort to study for my upcoming philosophy exam.

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"The First Time He (Properly) Met Her Parents"

16 August 1998

Ron was done for. He could see no possible way to survive the night. Even if he managed to apparate without splinching himself, he would surely say something so insensitive or inappropriate that he would meet his death. Hermione was disturbingly unphased by the prospect of his imminent doom. "Honestly, Ron, they're just my parents," she'd said when he'd expressed his concern about what was sure to be the end of his life. "They know we're together, and they've really not got a problem with it. I'm sure it will be a lovely dinner. Mum's cooking a steak."

"They've not got a problem with me?" Ron repeated incredulously. "Oh, good. That's what every bloke wants to hear when he goes to meet his girlfriend's parents. Very encouraging." Hermione had just rolled her eyes before kissing him soundly on the mouth and causing him to temporarily forget his troubles.

It had been nearly two months since the Grangers had returned to England, and Hermione had been splitting her time between helping them re-acclimate, starting on her Head Girl duties by assisting Professor McGonagall in making sure Hogwarts was set to reopen in a couple of weeks, and snogging Ron. Predictably, Ron was only particularly happy about one of those activities. Hermione had not moved back to her parent's home, which had initially surprised Ron until she had tearfully confided to him that she didn't feel as comfortable in her childhood home as she used to. Apparently her parents hadn't been too upset, considering Hermione hadn't spent a summer at home since she was thirteen, but she still felt guilty about the situation. At any rate, although she was still living with the Weasleys, Hermione could normally only be found in the Burrow in the evenings.

While Ron was happy to spend most of his days with George, who was enjoying booming business following the reopening of the joke shop at the end of July, he couldn't help but wish he could just fall into a bubble with Hermione and ignore the rest of the world for a few days (or weeks). Was it too soon in their relationship to go on a holiday together? They'd shared a bed plenty of times now, both craving company and comfort in the wake of the horrors they'd seen. The war may have ended, but the nightmares remained, and Ron had quickly discovered that it was infinitely better to have someone to hold or be held by than to be alone when they occurred.

Although the couple had grown quite comfortable with each other, they hadn't yet taken their relationship to the next level physically. Ron couldn't deny that he would immediately oblige should Hermione ask to go further, but on some level he knew it wasn't the right time. Hermione had admitted, after nearly jumping him one night, that she wasn't ready anyhow, and besides, shagging under his parents' roof seemed wrong somehow. They must know, Ron figured, that Hermione spent most of her nights in his room, but his mum and dad had refrained from interfering in the situation. Well, aside from one very uncomfortable conversation he'd had with his dad a few weeks ago about the contraceptive potion.

To be honest, Ron thought, living at home in general was starting to seem strange. As much as Ron loved the Burrow, he'd reached an age that it really just made more sense to move out. For this reason, he was planning to join Harry at Grimmauld Place in September, by which time they would be done cleaning the place out and getting rid of most of the dark objects that were still there.

Despite not getting to see his girlfriend quite as much as he would like and dealing with the lingering effects from the war, both of which were problems which he had little to no control over, Ron's life was really going fairly well. Of course, that had been before Hermione had announced that her parents would like to have dinner with them before she returned to Hogwarts. Ron had spent the past week worrying and receiving advice from just about everyone. Harry had told him to be himself. Ginny had told him that whatever he did, under no circumstances should he be himself. Bill had advised that he dress nicely, speak politely, and conduct himself as though he were meeting the royal family. This only led Ron to wonder what on Earth dinners with Fleur's family were like.

George had been perhaps the least helpful of all: "Make sure you don't mention how much you want to shag Hermione in front of her dad. And don't tell her mum that you see where Hermione got her good looks from, because really that's just creepy; only greasy tossers do that. Oh, and if they ask you about your intentions, I'd suggest you just run for the hills since there's really no right answer to that question. I'll let you have some instant darkness powder if you'd like!"

Having internalized none of this useless information, Ron found himself just as hopeless as he'd ever been on the Sunday night that would surely mark his demise. As he stood in front of his mirror and adjusted the itchy but sharp-looking brown sweater his mum had bought him for the occasion, he attempted to calm himself down for what must have been the forty-seventh time that evening. "Hermione loves me," he told his reflection. "Her parents can't possibly hate me. I won't mess this up."

He'd almost half-believed himself until his mirror ever-so-helpfully replied, "You keep telling yourself that, dear."

He scowled at it. "You'd think after eighteen years you'd have a bit more faith in me."

"It's good your sweater isn't orange or maroon," the mirror supplied in what was probably supposed to be a supportive voice.

At that moment, a knock came at the door. Before Ron had a chance to respond, Hermione bustled into the room. "We ought to be leaving in a minute, Ron. My parents are expecting us at six. Oh, see, I told you that sweater would look nice; it was so lovely of your mum to buy it for you. Your hair looks great too, I'm so glad you finally let me cut it," she said, running her fingers through it briefly as she spoke very quickly.

Ron, trying desperately to look as though he had not just been arguing with a mirror, grabbed her by the waist and kissed her swiftly. "What was that for?" she asked, smiling as they broke apart.

"Just thought I should get one more in," he said innocently, taking her hand as they began to walk downstairs.

"Oh, honestly, how many times have we discussed this? You've faced Voldemort; I don't understand why you seem to think this will be what kills you," Hermione said exasperatedly.

"You can't know that it won't be. What if I get tripped up and start talking about how lovely it is snogging you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. At any rate, I don't know that it would matter. They must know that we've snogged, considering we're eighteen and we've been together for more than three months."

"And if they find out I've had my hands on their daughter's bum before?"

"I can't see how that would come up in polite dinner conversation, Ron."

They continued bickering until they made their way to the ground floor, where they were greeted by Ron's enthusiastic mum, who had armed herself with a camera and refused to let them leave without snapping a few pictures. "You'll be glad to have these when Hermione goes back to school, Ron," she said dismissively when he tried to protest.

At five til six, they had at last made their way to the edge of the wards and disapparated. When they materialized again in a deserted park a block away from the Grangers house, Ron had to bend over to fight the nausea from the combination of Apparition and nerves. Hermione rubbed his back comfortingly. "You'll be fine. Just relax and be yourself."

"Ginny told me not to be myself," Ron replied, taking slow steps down the street and weaving his fingers through Hermione's.

"Ginny has a strange sense of humor," Hermione remarked. "I would suggest that you try to watch your language though."

"Right," Ron said. It was easy for Hermione, he thought to himself. She'd been in his parents' good graces since the moment they'd met her, and she'd spent so many summers at the Burrow that she was basically already a part of the family. Meanwhile, Ron had only met the Grangers a handful of times, and the last was in a foreign country at a time when they were far too busy to truly notice that he was in love with their only daughter. Ron fully intended to be a part of Hermione's life for a very long time, and that would be a lot easier if her parents liked him. He _needed_ tonight to go well.

Sooner than he would have liked, they were walking up the steps to the Grangers' door, and Hermione was ringing the bell. A moment later, a smiling Mrs. Granger opened the door. "Hermione!" she said warmly, hugging her daughter and kissing her cheek. "And Ron, how nice to see you again," Mrs. Granger said as she released Hermione and held out a hand for him to shake. He took it, hoping she didn't notice how clammy his hand was.

"You too, Mrs. Granger," he said, using the most confident voice he could muster.

"Did I hear them arrive?" came a male voice from inside the house. The voice was closely followed by Mr. Granger, who repeated his wife's greetings in kind. Ron forced himself to meet Mr. Granger's eyes, regardless of the discomfort he felt.

"Dinner's almost ready," Mrs. Granger said as Ron and Hermione came in and took off their shoes in the entryway. "I've got the salads prepared so we can begin straight away. Do you like salad, Ron?"

"Sure," he said, although truthfully he'd never eaten one in his life, having generally opted for large amounts of meat over vegetables.

"Ron eats just about everything aside from corned beef," Hermione supplied as she steered him toward the dining room. Ron gave her what was meant to be an irritated look, but must have not come off as such since she just smiled prettily in return. Moments later, they'd all settled in at what Ron considered an abnormally large dining table for such a small family, and Mrs. Granger had placed the salads in front of them. Ron had just taken a bite of his and had determined that it wasn't bad when the inquisition began.

"So, Ron," Mr. Granger began casually, "Hermione tells us you've been helping your brother get back on his feet."

"Yeah," Ron answered. "We reopened the shop a few weeks ago and business has been great so far."

"And what is it the shop sells again?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"It's a joke shop mainly, but we've got a line of merchandise that we sell to the ministry. Several of our products are really useful for security and such," Ron said, trying to emphasize the last bit. As proud as he was of what Fred and George had created, he didn't think Hermione's parents were necessarily the type that would be impressed by a joke shop.

"Have you been splitting the profit then?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Well George gets most of it, as it's his shop," Ron answered uneasily, "and I'm not going to be around forever. I start training with the Aurors in January."

"I told you about the Aurors," Hermione piped up. "It's really an impressive occupation, and Ron's been allowed in without having to take his NEWTs, which is almost unprecedented."

"Ah, yes. You said they're the magical version of policemen, correct?" Mrs. Granger nodded knowingly as she smiled encouragingly at Ron.

"Do you normally need to pass the upper level exams to be a policeman?" Mr. Granger asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, "it's one of the most selective programs within the ministry. Ron and Harry have only been allowed in because of their extraordinary field experience the past year."

"What classes are you supposed to take to get in?" Mr. Granger asked.

"All the basic ones, mainly," Ron replied, feeling some of his nerves start to dissipate now that they were talking about something in which he took great pride. "Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defense—there are classes you take within the training program too. Those are mostly job-specific things like stealth and strategy. Kingsley's said Harry and I won't be far behind even though we missed our seventh year as you learn all you'll really need during training. We've been given some books with all the most important bits in it so we can read through that in the meantime."

"So is it a very dangerous occupation then?" Mrs. Granger asked a bit nervously.

"It can be," Ron said, "depending on what's going on, really. The last few years would have been pretty bad, but it should be more day-to-day work now that Voldemort's gone and nearly all his followers are dead or in Azkaban. Some of the positions are pretty travel-heavy, but both Harry and I are training to be in the department for domestic affairs."

"There are desk jobs, too, as you get higher up in the department," Hermione interjected quickly.

"What's Azkaban?" asked Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, sorry, that's our prison," Ron said. "It's guarded by dementors, so it's really quite secure."

"And what are dementors?" Mr. Granger asked.

Ron shot Hermione an incredulous look. Had she really told them this little about the wizarding world? She widened her eyes at him in response, a clear sign to let her answer. "They're just the particularly vicious prison guards. They know plenty of magic that keeps the prisoners in check. There have only been a couple of breakouts in its history, and it's not likely that such a thing will happen again anytime in the near future," Hermione said smoothly.

"I see. So does being an Auror pay well, Ron?" Mr. Granger said, continuing his inquiry.

"Dad!" Hermione protested.

"It's fine," Ron answered quickly, wanting to prove to his girlfriend's father that he was not going to be a deadbeat. "I won't be making much to start out, but it's definitely a decent salary once you're out of training."

"Will you be living at home until you've got some money saved, then?" Mrs. Granger asked.

Ron decided that he liked her much better than her husband. Mrs. Granger seemed very tactful and genuinely interested in what he was saying, whereas Mr. Granger had a tendency to be rather blunt (not unlike himself at times, he supposed). "No, Harry and I are actually moving into the house his godfather left him next month. It's the perfect situation, really, as we won't have to pay rent."

"They will have to make their own food, though," Hermione said, clearly trying to lighten the conversation some. "I'm certainly curious to hear how cooking goes for them next year."

"This coming from the master chef," Ron teased.

"Oh, hush. It's not like I had much to work with last year," Hermione replied, nudging him with her foot.

"No, I don't think even my mum could have made those blasted mushrooms taste good," Ron laughed.

He noticed a moment too late that the Grangers looked a bit uncomfortable at the casual reference to their daughter living with two boys for a year. Ron caught the glance that Hermione's parents exchanged; he guessed that Mrs. Granger was willing her husband to let the moment pass without comment. He was used to this type of wordless conversation; he and Hermione had grown quite skilled at them through the years of trying to communicate about Harry without him catching on.

Hermione cleared her throat and abruptly changed the subject, "So how is it going at the practice? Mum told me you've gotten most of your old clients back."

"Yes, we're lucky to have such a faithful clientele. Many of them have been more than understanding about our little holiday," Mr. Granger responded, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the subject changed to dentistry, something he was perfectly content to know nothing about.

The evening hadn't gone terribly so far, Ron thought to himself. It was clear that there was some tension between Hermione and her parents, especially her father, although he couldn't quite place the exact cause of it. After a few more minutes of polite dentistry chatter, Mrs. Granger cleared the salad plates and retreated to the kitchen to bring in the main course. Mr. Granger used this opportunity to resume his questioning of his guest. "So, Ron, how are your parents doing? It's been awhile since we've had a chance to chat with them."

"They're well," Ron said simply, not sure how else to respond.

"I'm sure they're pleased you're going to become an Auror," Mr. Granger commented.

"Erm, yeah," Ron said a bit uneasily, not knowing where Mr. Granger was going with this. "They're probably just pleased I won't be living at home forever," he added, trying to inject a bit of humor into the conversation.

"Tell me, Ron, Hermione says the field experience you gained in the war is what's given you the inner track for your career. But surely your parents weren't pleased you got that experience?" Ron blinked slowly, wondering where the hell _that_ question came from. Surely this wasn't a socially acceptable thing to ask, even in the Muggle world? Hermione looked incredibly uncomfortable, as though she was using all of her willpower not to interrupt.

"Well obviously they'd rather we'd not have had to fight in a war," Ron answered slowly, "but I think given the circumstances, they know we made the right decision. It's just a coincidence that it's helped me out jobwise."

"Aren't they a bit wary though, of you entering into such a risky field?" Mr. Granger pressed on, and Hermione looked as though she was about a second away from bursting in.

Ron, however, felt it wasn't too invasive of a question, and answered, "Well yeah, but they also know I can take care of myself. I've done so since the day I went to Hogwarts, and chances are my day-to-day work won't be nearly as dangerous as some of the stuff we faced last year."

"But surely you all realize that just you're magical doesn't mean you're _invincible_; Hermione told me about your brother. I just mean that none of us would want the same thing to happen to you or Harry," Mr. Granger's voice was calm, as though he thought he was being reasonable, but his words were harsh.

"Dad!" Hermione exclaimed, unable to keep herself quiet any longer.

"I saw my twenty year old brother die, Mr. Granger, and he wasn't the only one that we lost that night. I know all too well that nobody's invincible," Ron said fiercely, actually feeling himself shake with the effort of using all of his strength to keep his temper in check. Surely Mr. Granger knew he didn't want to talk about his deceased brother over dinner?

"Ron knows what he's doing, Dad," Hermione added in a voice that Ron found slightly intimidating. Mr. Granger, however, did not appear to concur.

"I'm not trying to offend anyone; I'm simply stating the facts," he said calmly.

"Well, I suppose you and I have different ideas of what is fact," Hermione responded coldly. The room settled into an awkward silence, and Ron did his best to pretend he was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

After a tense moment, Mrs. Granger entered the room with the steak. She seemed to sense the strain between her husband and daughter and quickly began a polite conversation about Hermione's imminent return to Hogwarts, which carried the group through dinner and the following pudding without any additional conflict. After they'd finished eating, Hermione and Ron followed Mrs. Granger into the kitchen with the dishes while Mr. Granger retreated to the sitting room. Once they'd set the dishes on the counter, Mrs. Granger addressed Ron, "I don't know what happened while I was getting the steak, but please know my husband means well, Ron."

"He brought up Ron's brother, Mum," Hermione interjected. "It was the argument about the Aurors again." Ron shot her a questioning look—had Hermione's dad really said these things before and not bothered to tell him?—but she just shook her head at him, indicating that they'd discuss it later.

Mrs. Granger nodded understandingly, "You know your father tends to voice his opinions loudly. You got that from him, Hermione. Unfortunately he hasn't got much of a filter. Why don't you go chat with him while we finish up in here, Ron?"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ron asked uncertainly.

Mrs. Granger responded confidently, "Just talk to him. I can't pretend we've been pleased to learn about everything that's gone on in your world these past years, but I know he'll come around more fully once he gets used to it. It just takes him awhile to see things from someone else's perspective, so I think you ought to go give him yours."

Ron gulped and nodded, exchanging a nervous glance with Hermione before following Mr. Granger into the sitting room, where he took a seat on the opposite side of the room from the elder man and diligently avoided making eye contact. Mr. Granger almost immediately flipped on the telly to avoid the inevitably awkward silence. Ron didn't mind in the slightest; he'd become rather enthralled with the muggle contraption during the trip to Australia. Although he had no idea what the rules of the game projected on the screen were, he marveled in the novelty of watching a continuous moving picture. Ron thought privately that he'd have to buy one for his dad once he could afford it, because this was probably the best thing the muggles had ever come up with.

After five minutes of staring at the TV in silence, Mr. Granger cleared his throat. Ron looked in his direction, but the elder man was still looking at the television. Without meeting Ron's eyes, he began to speak: "I'm sorry if I came off as insensitive earlier, Ron. You must understand this has been a lot for us to take in."

"I know," Ron said honestly, "but Hermione's right. I know what I'm getting into, and I know the risks involved." He swallowed nervously, knowing that this was likely the most important discussion he would have tonight. It didn't matter that Mr. Granger had offended him earlier; he still craved his approval. He had to prove that he was good enough for Hermione. That was really the only reason he had kept his cool thus far.

"It is a respectable occupation. The police are a very important part of our society. It just worries me to hear that my daughter was in the center of what sounds like a brutal war, and the man she's clearly in love with has chosen to pursue something so dangerous so soon," Mr. Granger said, speaking carefully.

"I understand, Mr. Granger. I know it's traditionally not the most stable career, but the thing is part of the reason I'm doing it is for her. I never want to see her get hurt ever again," Ron said, speaking more confidently than he had all night as he recalled the promise he'd made to himself following the events at the Malfoys' last spring. It had been that night that he'd become sure of his future, if he were to have one—something he wasn't sure of at that point. But he'd known that he never wanted to feel that helpless again, and he never wanted to hear her scream like that again.

Mr. Granger had a faraway look in his eyes as he responded in a resigned tone, "She hasn't told us nearly everything the three of you went through, has she?"

Ron shook his head. He knew Hermione had purposely omitted some of the more ghastly details of the war from the story she'd told her parents, specifically her torture and the gorier bits of the last battle. "No, she hasn't."

Mr. Granger nodded, begrudgingly accepting what he'd been told. Ron could see clearly now why there was so much tension between Hermione and her parents; they truly didn't understand how much their daughter had seen and endured since she was eleven. Realistically, Ron supposed they probably _couldn't_ understand. He felt a pang of sympathy for the Grangers then, realizing how it must have felt to discover that their daughter had suffered and they hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. He'd felt similarly when he'd been trapped down in the cellar, listening to her screams and being able to do nothing but bang on the walls and shout himself hoarse…abruptly, Ron shook himself out of his unpleasant reverie. He felt he needed to say something more. He had to prove himself.

"Mr. Granger?" he ventured bravely. The elder man finally turned his head to look at him, and this gave Ron the courage to continue: "I just—I want you to know that you can trust me. With Hermione, I mean. She—she's my best friend, and now she's a lot more than that, and—just know that I'm gonna take care of her. Y'know, in those rare times she can't do so for herself."

Mr. Granger chuckled. "That sounds like my Hermione. Hardly ever needs help and doesn't want to admit it when she does."

"What's that?" came Hermione's voice as she entered the room with her mum.

"We're just talking about how amazing you are," Ron said with a wide grin as she sat down beside him on the couch. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head dismissively, indicating that he would explain later. He felt more comfortable now—every time he saw Hermione and remembered that this magnificently mental and brilliant girl was in love with _him_, he couldn't help but feel like the most confident man on Earth.

The rest of the night passed much more peacefully than the dinner itself had. Mrs. Granger showed Ron several old photo albums featuring pictures of Hermione as a child, which had him laughing and her scowling. When the time came for Ron and Hermione to leave, he'd earned a hug from Mrs. Granger and a firm, sincere handshake from Mr. Granger. Things hadn't gone anywhere near perfectly, but Ron had survived, and he felt like he'd done quite well for himself. As he and Hermione walked hand in hand toward their apparition point, she asked, "What happened between you and my dad?"

"We came to an understanding," Ron said simply. "I think it's just hard for them to accept all we've been through, y'know?"

"It has been," Hermione agreed.

"Are you ever going to tell them everything?"

Hermione bit her lip in consideration. "I'm not sure. I just—the less people that know about Malfoy Manor, the better," she said earnestly. "They've already had such a hard time really accepting magic, especially my dad. I don't want them to have to deal with that side of it."

Ron nodded, understanding. The night at the Malfoy Manor was tied for the worst night of his life, and he knew and understood that even if she _had_ wanted her parents to know, it was likely Hermione didn't want to relive it in any capacity. He knew she'd used the dreamless sleep potion for the duration of their stay at Shell Cottage to avoid seeing it in her sleep, and he was all too familiar with the reality that she still occasionally had nightmares about it.

After a moment, Hermione's voice broke through his thoughts, "My mum really likes you, you know. She opens up to people more easily than Dad does, and she thinks you're funny."

"Yeah? Are you sure she wasn't just drawn in by my incredible good looks?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'm at a loss for _why_ she thinks you're funny," Hermione replied, making a grand show of rolling her eyes as they reached the park.

Ron smiled and turned to face her, grabbing the hand he wasn't already holding in the process. "You know you love me," he said cheekily, leaning in closer.

"Yes, I do," she responded just before she closed the gap between them.

When they broke apart several minutes later, Ron rested his forehead against hers before observing, "We've become entirely too adorable. It's gotten to the point where it's nauseating."

She laughed before adding, "We haven't had a real row in ages. People are probably getting concerned."

He chuckled before kissing her once more. "Don't need to row with you anymore," he said. "I can get your attention this way instead."

"You've always had my attention," she responded earnestly, and Ron couldn't help but flush and smile in glee. He didn't care if he looked like a tosser; he was so damned lucky, and this "honeymoon period," as Ginny called it, was completely bloody brilliant. His relationship with Hermione had truly been the brightest part of what had been a fairly dark few months.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

"Take me home, you daft man," she responded before sliding her arms around his neck and taking him slightly aback by kissing him thoroughly once more. Ron's last coherent thought was that, perhaps, being a few minutes late arriving home was okay if it was for something as wonderful as this.

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A/N: Fun fact about this chapter: Characterizing Hermione's parents was one of those unexpected challenges that arose while writing. I tried to show that Hermione gets her personality from both of them—an interesting mix of her mum's tactfulness and kindness and her dad's tendency to be a bit of a blunt know-it-all. I think some parts of the conversation might have come off a bit awkward, but that's how it was meant to be—at least to a degree. As always, I'd be delighted to hear what you think.

Logistical note: Today is my last day of classes for the semester, and on Tuesday begins the hell we call final exams week. Since I'll obviously be fairly busy, it might be a few days longer than normal before I can get the next chapter posted. It is completely written as of now, but it does need some more editing. However, rest assured that it won't be longer than a week's wait. Thanks for reading. :)


	5. Reunion

A/N: Thanks as always to all those that have read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. You're all fantastic.

Shameless self-promotion: I wrote something—gasp—not fluffy. It's called "Anniversary" and it's from George's perspective five years after the war. If you want to check it out, that'd be brilliant. If not, forget I asked and I won't be offended.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter because last time I checked, J.K. Rowling was not an American college student. Or a ginger.

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"The First Reunion"

17 October 1998

It was eight o'clock on the dot when the charmed alarm clock, which sat on a table beside a picture of a redhead with his arm around a bushy-haired brunette, began to chirp. Ron's eyes sprung open immediately. Two thoughts were immediately clear in his mind. It was Saturday. He was seeing Hermione today.

Ron showered, dressed, and brushed his teeth in what must have been record time. It had been more than six weeks since the last time he'd seen her. In some ways the time had flown by; he'd been very busy, after all, working for George and preparing for Auror training in January. But in most ways, it had been some of the longest weeks of his life. This was the longest he'd been separated from Hermione in ages; they made a point to write several times a week, but it simply wasn't the same. Today, finally, he would get to see her smile, kiss her, hug her, kiss her, hear her voice, kiss her…

Harry was already sitting at the table when Ron came in the kitchen to make his breakfast. "Morning," he said as he folded up the Daily Prophet.

"Anything new today?" Ron asked as he grabbed a box of cereal and a bowl, not to be bothered by the idea of making anything more complicated.

"Not really," Harry answered, pouring more milk into his own cereal. "The trials are set to start next month."

"Good," Ron replied shortly. The process of reorganizing the ministry's courts as well as gathering the witnesses and evidence to try the remaining captured Death Eaters had been painstaking. No one had wanted it to drag out longer than necessary, but it had been quite a task to complete. To hear that the bastards would finally be set to get what they deserved caused Ron a great amount of relief.

"I've been asked to testify at the Malfoys'," Harry remarked a little too casually. Ron's eyes snapped up in interest. "Kingsley gave me the official letter yesterday," Harry clarified.

"Are you gonna do it?" Ron asked, replicating Harry's casual tone of voice.

"Probably, but I'll give a statement instead of going to the trial," Harry said. "I don't want a scene."

"Good idea. I want them to get what's coming to them," Ron said fiercely.

"They're more cowardly than they are evil," Harry remarked. "I think just that will get them off easier than the others, 'specially given what Narcissa did for me."

Ron nodded begrudgingly. They'd had this very discussion several times, and he was no less pleased with the result. "It doesn't change the fact that they just stood there," he said pointedly, knowing Harry would know what he was making reference to.

"And the jury will know that," Harry said reassuringly. "I don't want them getting away with that either."

"Good," Ron said, content to drop the subject. It's not as though discussing it for the dozenth time would change anything, anyways. "We're all on for butterbeers at two today, right?"

"Sounds right. Will four hours with Hermione be enough for you?" Harry teased.

"Of course not, but what can you do?" Ron replied with a sigh. "I can't wait 'til they're done with school."

"Neither can I," Harry said. "Does that make us pathetic?"

"I won't tell if you won't," Ron quipped.

"Everybody around us knows anyways. George is the only one that even bothers to take the piss anymore," Harry remarked.

"And I really couldn't care less at this point," Ron said emphatically, picking up his cereal bowl, setting it in the sink, and muttering a charm to make the dish wash itself. What he said was true, the only thing on his mind was that he had less than an hour to go until he could see Hermione.

After aimlessly wandering about Grimmauld Place for awhile with the sole intention of killing time, it was at last nearly ten. Ron pulled on a light jacket and disapparated for Hogsmeade. When his feet touched solid ground again, he barely had time to register whether or not he'd reached the designated meeting place when he was ambushed by something with a lot of brown, curly hair.

Despite briefly getting the wind knocked out of him, Ron smiled as he wrapped his arms tightly around Hermione, who was squeezing him as hard as she could. It might have hurt, he thought, if she weren't about half his size. "Hi," he murmured into her hair as he rested his head atop hers.

Hermione responded by making a muffled noise into his chest that he supposed was meant to be a greeting. When he tried to pull back to kiss her a moment later, she refused to let go and somehow managed to hold him tighter. "I missed you," she said, turning her face to the side a bit so that he could hear her properly.

"I missed you too," he replied immediately. "I'll sneak into the damn castle before I spend another six weeks without seeing you."

Hermione sniffed loudly before adding, "And I'll let you."

Ron smiled into her hair. Sometimes it scared him how incredibly in love with her he was.

It was a few more minutes before Hermione finally loosened her grip on his torso, pulling back and grabbing his hands in hers. "Hi," she said, beaming up at him.

"Hi," he repeated. "Your hair is longer." He let go of one of her hands briefly to tug on a curl.

"Hair grows, you see," she responded, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what I've been told," he said, squeezing her hands quickly.

Hermione laughed. "It's been weeks, and we're talking about hair."

"Well what did you want to talk about?" Ron asked teasingly.

"I don't know. You're a bit taller," she said.

"I grow, you see."

"You ought to stop. Soon I won't be able to reach you."

"I'll buy you a step ladder for Christmas."

"Well, that's romantic."

"It's practical. I know how sensible men get you all hot and bothered."

"I hate you."

Ron chuckled. "I missed you," he responded, and he couldn't take it any longer—he pulled lightly on her hands, bringing her closer to himself, and planted his lips directly on hers. She responded immediately, and Ron figured that if she truly hated him, she certainly had a favorable way of expressing as much.

After a few blissful moments, Hermione pulled back suddenly. Ron groaned in protest. "I'm Head Girl; I can't very well be seen snogging right in the middle of Hogsmeade!" Hermione hissed, looking around them as if she was certain McGonagall was hiding behind one of the shops.

"We're on one of the side streets," Ron reminded her. "But have it your way, what do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know. I didn't really have anything planned," she responded, still distracted by glancing around.

"You're telling me _you_ don't have anything planned?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Not particularly. I thought we might go over by the Shrieking Shack for a bit, since it's not too cold out today. There's that grassy space over there, we could sit and chat alone before we meet Harry and Ginny," Hermione suggested.

"Sounds great, but we have to stop by Honeydukes before the Three Broomsticks," Ron said as they began to set off toward the Shrieking Shack.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked.

"Because it's _Honeydukes,_" Ron answered, feeling the subject needed no further clarification.

Hermione just rolled her eyes but did not protest. They spent the rest of the short walk in a comfortable silence, exchanging silly grins and simply enjoying the feeling of being with each other again. When they reached the grassy clearing by the Shrieking Shack, Ron took a seat on the ground, leaning back against a tree stump. Hermione sat directly in front of him, leaning back against his chest with his legs on either side of her. He placed his hands on her waist and kissed the top of her head, sighing contentedly.

"So, is anything new with you since your last letter?" Hermione asked in a relaxed voice.

"Not really. I do the same thing almost every day. Work at the shop, eat dinner at the Burrow, and read the training books before bed," Ron replied, rubbing her waist with his thumbs.

"How's George?" she asked, a bit too casually.

"Better," Ron replied truthfully. "Cliché as it sounds, we're all getting better together. He doesn't have many bad nights anymore, and the bad nights aren't as bad as they were."

"Good," Hermione said. "Better's about all we can ask for, really."

Ron nodded before realizing she couldn't see him. "Yeah. He's okay. Life keeps going, you know? And he wants to keep going with it."

Hermione leaned back further into him, and he squeezed her waist lightly in response. After a moment of comfortable silence, Ron asked, "So what have you been up to lately?"

Hermione pretended to contemplate for a moment before answering, "Going to class, scolding the imbeciles that roam the halls, and studying."

Ron chuckled. "What fun you must have."

Hermione was quiet for a minute before responding, "It's not the same, you know. Not without you and Harry."

"Nobody to nag about homework?" Ron asked, in an effort to keep the conversation light.

"I don't nag," Hermione replied primly.

"Right, you just suggest," Ron said, smiling and wrapping his hands further around her middle.

"That's right, and Ginny doesn't leave her assignments til the last minute," Hermione said pointedly. "I can safely say I don't miss trying to make the two of you do your homework."

"I miss you trying to make me do my homework, though," Ron countered. "It made it all the more fun to slack off."

To his surprise, Hermione laughed at this. "You're ridiculous."

"You're mental."

"You're incorrigible."

"You're bossy."

"You need to show respect for the Head Girl," Hermione said with an air of superiority, turning around briefly to tap him on the nose.

"You need to come _home_, Head Girl," Ron said sincerely, moving his arms so that they were wrapped all the way around her small waist.

Hermione sighed deeply. "Want to know something?"

"About you? Always," Ron replied solemnly.

"Sometimes…" Hermione trailed off for a moment before continuing. "Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision, coming back."

"How do you mean?" Ron asked, a bit frustrated that he couldn't see her face properly in their current position.

"I guess—Hogwarts was the one place I belonged when we were younger, but it's so different now. I think I'm just realizing that the belonging part wasn't just the place I was in. It was more about the people I was with," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"That makes sense," Ron replied, recalling his own childhood—he may have come from a family of wizards, but it wasn't until he'd become friends with Harry and Hermione that he'd truly felt he _belonged_ anywhere on his own. He may have had his doubts at times through the years, but in the end he knew it'd always be the three of them. "But I don't think you'd have been happy not finishing school," he remarked to her after a moment of reflection.

"I don't think so either, really," Hermione said. "It's just hard. I never thought much beyond the war, but when I did, it wasn't quite like this."

Ron grunted his agreement. He was quiet for a moment before a thought struck him. "Are you sleeping alright?" he asked bluntly.

Hermione gulped audibly. "Mostly. But you know it's better when I'm not alone."

"You could always ask Ginny," Ron reasoned.

"Ask your sister to share a bed with me?" Hermione replied skeptically.

"Yeah, didn't think that one through," Ron conceded, laughing lightly.

"What about you?" Hermione asked. "Have you been sleeping well?"

"I'm faring about the same as you are, I reckon," Ron said. "Did you ever talk to your parents about Christmas hols?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject. He really wasn't in the mood for a deep conversation; he was just so happy to even be with Hermione again, and he didn't particularly want anything bursting his bubble.

"Oh, yes! That's what I meant to tell you. I got the letter from Mum this morning; I'm set to stay with them through Christmas Eve, then I'm coming to the Burrow until Ginny and I have to go back. You're welcome to come over to my parents' any time while I'm there, by the way, and Mum hinted that she'd love for you to come to our party on Christmas Eve," Hermione said.

"Okay. What do muggles do at Christmas parties?" Ron asked, grinning as he realized they'd be seeing each other every day for at least two full weeks over the holidays.

"Nothing much. It's always a small group of us. My aunt—my mum's sister—will come over with her family, and a few of the neighbors normally come too. We mostly just eat and socialize. It'd be nice if you could make it," Hermione replied.

"Of course I will," Ron agreed automatically. "So your aunt's family are the only relatives coming?"

"Well, yes, they're our only close relatives, and we don't see them much," Hermione answered. "They'll come over every Christmas and occasionally we'd visit them over the summers. Taking care of them was the easiest part of the Australia endeavor—I just sent them a letter telling them my parents had decided to take an extended holiday and they didn't question it."

Ron laughed humorlessly. "Your family's so different from mine."

"Surely you have cousins you don't talk to much?" Hermione reasoned.

"I guess, but only because we had so many siblings that we didn't feel the need to see our cousins that often," Ron explained. "Nobody wanted to host regular reunions because it'd essentially turn into a large babysitting adventure."

"Do you think it will be the same when you and your siblings all have kids?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, I think after the last few years we're all closer than Dad is to his brothers. And it's just convenient that Harry'll marry my sister and be in on it all anyways," Ron replied, realizing as he spoke that in his head, Hermione was included automatically too—she'd be the mother of his kids. He didn't even need to think about it, and in some ways, that scared the shit out of him. In other ways, in most ways really, it seemed perfectly natural.

"You think Harry will marry Ginny?" Hermione asked casually.

"You know him, once he's set on an idea he can't let it go," Ron joked. Though he couldn't see her face, he could practically feel Hermione rolling her eyes.

"Really though?"

Ron thought for a moment before answering. "It doesn't mean I particularly like it, but it's obvious he's mad about her. Don't you think?"

"Yes, of course. I guess I just hadn't thought about them getting married," Hermione said.

"Don't you think about the future?" Ron asked uncertainly, feeling more like a tit the more he spoke.

"Sure," Hermione said. "It just all feels very hypothetical to me."

"Explain," Ron prompted. This was a system they'd devised a few months prior; rather than getting frustrated when Hermione said something cryptic, Ron would merely request that she explain herself and she would oblige without argument. This caused considerably fewer headaches for both of them.

"Well, I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought about...you know, us someday," Hermione said. Ron tilted his head to try to look at her face and saw a very noticeable blush on her cheeks. "But the future seems so far away. Like there's so much to be done between now and then."

Ron didn't process much of the latter part of her statement; he was stuck on the fact that she'd thought about him and the future in the same context. It didn't matter how many times she told him she loved him; he was sure he'd still be a little surprised every time she said something that expressed as much in such a tangible way.

It was when Hermione twisted her head around to look at him while biting her lip that he realized he'd never said anything back. "I think about us too," he said hurriedly. She looked skeptical, and as though she were about to interject, so he explained quickly, "I mean it. I've told you I intend to be around for as long as you'll have me."

"Ron," Hermione began exasperatedly, but he was quick to interrupt:

"And if you'd stop protesting every time I say I'm lucky to have you, that'd be fantastic."

"Just so long as you realize I'm lucky to have you, too," she replied as she turned around in his arms, shifting so that she was now sitting atop his lap backwards, straddling him. He sucked in his breath. Did she really not realize what this did to him? "I really did miss you," she continued. "Have I said that enough yet?"

"You can say it more, if you want," Ron managed to reply. He meant to sound flirtatious (and was sure he'd failed in that endeavor), but Hermione didn't seem to know or care what he'd said. She slinked her arms around his neck and kissed him, hard, making him forget what exactly they'd been talking about in the first place.

Ron was fairly certain he would never, ever get tired of kissing Hermione. It had always been the little things about her that drove him absolutely mental, and the way she kissed was no different. For instance, the way she liked to run her hands through his hair while snogging was probably the most brilliant thing on the planet. As if the whole having his tongue in her mouth thing weren't already good enough, her hands in his hair or rubbing his scalp just felt _perfect_.

Then there were times, like today, when Hermione had apparently made an executive decision that they could go without breathing if it meant they could keep snogging. She didn't even pause when he knocked his head on the tree stump as she pushed him to the ground; nothing was going to stop her from kissing him, and he had absolutely no complaints.

It occurred to Ron in the back of his mind, somewhere around the time that his hands found themselves decidedly below the small of her back where they'd been previously residing, that he and Hermione really hadn't had many marathon snogging sessions like this one. No, that'd been something much more familiar to his relationship with Lavender. But this was completely different from that. For one, he and Hermione actually liked talking to each other, and didn't need to snog in order to fill time. For another, his mind didn't wander quite so much when he was kissing Hermione. If it did, it never lasted long, because he'd remember that he was _kissing Hermione_.

His train of thought, weak as it was anyways given the present situation, was completely cut off when Hermione made a moaning noise in the back of her throat and kissed Ron deeper still. Ron wasn't sure how, but one of his hands had found its way to where he was sure the side of her left tit must be, although he couldn't really feel it through the several layers of clothing she was wearing. The other hand still rested on her bum, and her hands were underneath his jacket, on the strip of bare skin between the top of his jeans and his shirt, which had ridden up a bit due to their movements.

Ron wasn't sure how long they stayed on the ground, snogging and groping madly like they'd never have another chance, but he didn't particularly care either. He'd rather snog Hermione than do anything else, anyways. But inevitably, their kisses eventually became slower, and Hermione slowly rolled off of him. As they lay side by side facing each other, hands now safely on waists above clothing, Ron couldn't help but kiss Hermione softly again, not quite ready to go back to the real world. He then pulled back to look at her dazedly and chuckled.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Your lips are all swollen," he said, and leaned in to kiss her one more time.

"That's hardly going to help the situation," she protested half-heartedly when he pulled back. She then leaned forward to brush his lips with hers once more before saying, "Yours are too."

They both laughed quietly, and Ron pulled her in closer. "The ground's kind of cold," he remarked conversationally.

"Did you want to move?"

"Not particularly."

Hermione smiled. "Let it never be said that we're normal."

"I thought most people first snog their girlfriends in the middle of a war."

"I snogged you, remember?"

Ron just smiled contentedly. "But I was a willing participant."

Their conversation trailed off then, save for the occasional remark about some detail of their lives they'd not discussed in their letters. It was funny, Ron thought to himself, how he'd thought back in May that he and Hermione really couldn't get any closer, when in reality they'd grown even further together in the five months they'd been boyfriend and girlfriend. He'd never been this close with another person before, and he couldn't imagine being like this with anybody else.

Ron didn't remember drifting off while they were lying there, but he must have, since he was awoken by a sharp poke in the side. "Hey!" he protested, catching Hermione's finger in his hand.

"What time is it?" she asked. "We're meant to meet Harry and Ginny at two, you know."

"Don't you have a watch?" Ron asked somewhat irritably, but he checked all the same. "It's nearly one."

"We should go then, if you want to stop in Honeydukes," she said, reluctantly sitting upright only to have Ron pull her down again almost immediately.

"No," he said stubbornly, knowing full well he sounded as if he were about seven years old.

"Ronald," Hermione said impatiently. It had been awhile since she'd used his full name, he noted with a sly grin.

"Don't wanna."

"Really now?"

Ron sighed. "The sooner we get up, the sooner I have to leave," he said, supposing he might as well be honest with her. She'd figure it out anyways.

Hermione's face softened. "I don't want you to go, either."

"Then let's stay. We could snog some more."

Hermione blatantly ignored the latter part of his statement. "I want to see Harry."

"He looks the same as he always has. Still a skinny tosser with glasses and a funny looking scar."

"Ron."

"I know."

A moment later, he relented and got to his feet, although he couldn't help but steal a chaste kiss before they left the privacy of the clearing and walked hand in hand toward the village. Yep, he was a goner. It's not like he ever really had a chance anyways. She'd been working on driving him mental since they were eleven, and Hermione Granger never left a task unfinished.

Their next stop was Honeydukes, where Ron insisted on buying Hermione a large handful of sweets with some of the money he'd made working at the shop.

"Honestly, I barely eat sweets as it is," she tried to protest, but Ron was having none of it.

"Don't pretend you don't love sugar quills," he said, counting out a few galleons and sickles to pay for the two bags of candy they'd collected between them. Or rather, that he'd collected for them.

"It's still your money. You needn't be spending it on me," she replied half-heartedly as he shoved one of the bags into her hands.

"I spent plenty on myself, too," Ron said, grinning cheekily. Hermione threw him a skeptical look, but nevertheless, she took his hand as they left the shop. The truth was that he loved being able to buy her things (wasn't that what boyfriends were supposed to do, anyways?), but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he voiced such a thought. He also loved holding her hand in public, he noted as they walked through the street. There was something about the fact that everyone knew she was with him that made him beam with pride whenever they were out together.

"Are you hungry?" Hermione asked as they approached the Three Broomsticks.

"Starved," Ron answered. He hadn't eaten in nearly four hours, but he'd been too caught up in Hermione to particularly care until now. "I can get us some sandwiches to go with our butterbeers."

"That'd be lovely, thank you. I'll have—"

"Turkey and cheese with lettuce and tomatoes," Ron finished for her.

Hermione looked taken aback, but smiled. "I didn't realize you knew my order."

"It's not exactly a hard one to remember," Ron replied as he opened the door and held it for her, internally awarding himself several points for being a gentleman, "and I do pay attention, sometimes."

They spotted Harry and Ginny sitting at a small table in the far corner and waded their way through the multitudes of Hogwarts students to join them. "About time you showed up!" Ginny said as she stood to hug her brother briefly.

"Honestly Ginny, it's not even two yet," Hermione said dismissively, hugging Harry tightly and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "It's so good to see you, Harry."

"You too, Hermione," Harry replied as they sat down. "Ginny says you've been busy harping on the first-years."

"Now see here, I do not _harp_ on anyone, I'm simply explaining to them what they can and cannot do to be successful students. And honestly, if anyone were to follow my advice…" Hermione was speaking in a heated voice that meant she wouldn't be done talking anytime soon, so Ron rubbed Hermione's shoulder affectionately, a gesture that went largely unnoticed, before excusing himself to go buy their butterbeers and sandwiches.

He didn't notice until he'd placed his order with the suddenly much less attractive Madam Rosmerta that Ginny had followed him. "How are things at home, big brother?" she asked after requesting two butterbeers.

"Better," Ron said, repeating what he told Hermione earlier. "We're all doing better. George especially."

"Good," Ginny replied. "It's been hard. Y'know, not being around."

"I can tell you it's no picnic being there all the time, either," Ron said honestly. "There are bad days."

"There'll always be bad days," Ginny said bluntly. "But it's a lot easier to have bad days when somebody's there with you. I spend a lot of time with Luna and Hermione, but he wasn't their brother, y'know?"

Ron nodded and put a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder. She shot him a smile that looked a little more like a grimace. "We'll be alright, yeah?" he asked.

"Course we will. We're Weasleys," she responded, and they both chuckled as Madam Rosmerta came back with their drinks and food. When they returned to the table, Hermione was still talking Harry's ear off about NEWTs and Head Girl duties.

"Sandwich for you, love," Ron interrupted loudly. Harry shot him a grateful glance.

"Oh, thank you Ron," Hermione said. She must have realized how long she'd been talking because she then changed the subject. "So what all have you been up to lately, Harry?"

"I would be relaxing, but somebody always finds some reason or another for me to be somewhere," Harry answered disgruntledly.

"The problems of the rich and the famous, you see," Ron chipped in helpfully. Harry sent him a look across the table so vicious it probably could have killed Voldemort without all the hassle.

"You know you wouldn't want all the attention either, Ron," Hermione scolded.

"Doesn't make it less funny when it happens to someone else," he replied, taking a large bite of his sandwich.

"It's true, I wouldn't be very sympathetic if it were the other way around," Harry said truthfully, and Ron shot him a grateful look. There was really no need to get Hermione riled up unnecessarily.

"I don't think I'll ever understand men," Hermione grumbled.

"Well that's good for you," Ron said. "It's best if you leave at least one subject unconquered. Wait, two—I forgot divination."

Harry laughed. "I don't know why we hated that class so much. It was good fun a lot of the time."

"But it was a waste of your time," Hermione reminded them.

"I think it might've been interesting with the right teacher," Ginny remarked. "I know you've seen Trelawney have real visions, Harry, but I still find it hard to believe."

"But think about it, those prophecies wouldn't have meant anything if someone hadn't _believed_ they did," Hermione pointed out.

"Hermione's right," Harry said, "but it'd still have been more useful if we'd had someone else teaching it. Firenze wasn't so bad."

"Useful's still a stretch," Ron said with an air of finality. "So how's Quidditch, Ginny?"

The group continued to chat and laugh long after they'd downed their second and third butterbeers. At various points in the conversation, Ginny entertained them all with accurate impressions of each of her professors, Hermione talked enthusiastically about her newly devised revising schedule, Harry rehashed his most recent attempt at cooking for himself, and Ron talked about the new products George was beginning to develop. It was only when Hermione checked her watch and saw that it was past five that their conversation came to a halt. Reluctantly, the four made their way out of the Three Broomsticks and onto the darkening street. In a fit of chivalry, Harry and Ron insisted that they walk the girls as far as the gates to the Hogwarts grounds, and neither Hermione nor Ginny put up much of a fight in opposition.

When at last they reached the gates, Hermione pulled Harry into a hug almost immediately while Ron threw an arm around his sister. "No need to get sentimental, eh?" he joked.

"You're a git," Ginny responded, but hugged him back all the same. "Write me soon and let me know how the shop's doing, yeah?"

"Sure," Ron agreed, making a mental note to ask Harry or Hermione to remind him to follow up on his promise. "I'll see if George wants to come round for your game next month, too."

"That'd be great," Ginny said, smiling. "Take care of yourself, big brother."

"You too," Ron replied. After checking that Harry and Hermione were still occupied with their goodbyes, he added, "And you know you can write me too. For the bad days or what not."

Ginny smiled again. "Thanks, Ron. You're not half bad."

"Same to you," Ron said, pulling her in for another quick hug. In a family of siblings that were close but not terribly sentimental, that was as much of an "I love you" as either of them was ever going to get out of the other, and they both liked it that way.

Next came the awkward business of trying to say goodbye to Hermione while thoroughly ignoring Harry's goodbye to Ginny. After much uncomfortable coughing on both sides, Ginny announced loudly that she had something to show Harry over by the Quidditch pitch, and this was accepted as truthful by all parties involved. It made the most sense anyways, Ron thought, since the "Chosen One" wasn't as likely to be reprimanded if he was found on the school grounds.

As Harry and Ginny rounded the corner and went out of sight, Hermione slipped her arms around Ron's torso and sighed heavily. "I guess it's goodbye again," she said.

"Hardly had time to say hello," he remarked sadly.

"I'm becoming one of those girls I always thought were pathetic," Hermione observed. "You know, the ones that moan about missing their boyfriends all the time."

"At least we're both pathetic then," Ron said with false enthusiasm. "Besides, it's different with us."

"How do you mean?"

"Nobody'd think you were pathetic for missing your best friend," Ron said, realizing a second late that his statement came out a lot sappier than he'd intended.

Hermione laughed shakily. "That's true." She gave a particularly loud sniff, and Ron pulled back to look at her, though their arms remained around each other. Oh, no. It was just as he feared. There were tears forming in the back of her eyes. It wasn't that he was still afraid of dealing with crying girls, although he was to an extent. No, his main concern was that her emotion would incite a similar reaction in him, and in his opinion, they really couldn't afford to spend their precious few moments together sobbing on each other. They'd had enough of that back in May and June, and Ron was sure there would be more of those days to come. He didn't want today to be one of them.

"Hey, it's not even a month until Ginny's Quidditch game," he said, sounding a lot more optimistic than he felt. "What's a month when we've gone six weeks?"

"Still too long," Hermione replied. "Just don't forget about me and run off with one of the shop girls." A few months ago, Ron might not have recognized the small sliver of truth in her worry. She hid it well, but he'd learned how to read her better than anyone.

"That'd never happen," he said confidently, "so I think we'll be alright, unless you're planning on leaving me for one of those Ravenclaw prats."

"The proper term is prefects," Hermione corrected softly with a smile, "and that won't happen either."

Ron kissed her then, softly and slowly. He wasn't going to leave this spot all night if he could help it. Unfortunately, Hermione foiled that plan when she pulled away a few minutes later.

"I ought to be getting back, before anyone misses me. All the students were meant to be back nearly ten minutes ago," she said reluctantly.

Ron didn't respond; he just pulled her into a tight embrace. It was cruel, he thought, to have to leave again after just a brief reminder of how much better life was with Hermione in it. He'd known he missed her, but it was as if he hadn't known how much until today. It was funny, he thought, how he'd spent the past seven years alternating between being scared of growing up and not being sure he'd ever actually get to be an adult, and now all he wanted was to have a normal life, to live in a normal home, go to a normal job, and spend all his free time with his not-quite-normal family, friends, and girlfriend.

"I've really got to go," Hermione whispered a few minutes later.

"Yeah," Ron replied reluctantly, loosening his grip and kissing her again. "I love you," he reminded her.

"I love you, too," she replied with a small smile. "I'll write before the weekend's up."

"Please do," he said. "Just a month, yeah?"

"Just a month," she replied, hugging him one last time. She then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him chastely on the mouth, and squeezed his hands once before finally letting go. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah. Soon," he said. She smiled and turned on her heel to walk back to the castle. He watched her, waving back every time she turned around to look at him again, and then she was gone.

With a deep sigh, Ron turned on his heel and disapparated, finding himself at the edge of the wards surrounding the Burrow when he found his footing. A few feet away from him, he spotted Harry.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said sarcastically.

"Well, your mum would think something was wrong if we didn't show up," Harry replied as they began to make their way to the house, the wards having been charmed to allow them through.

"What does it say about us that she'd be more inclined to think we died than just decided to cook dinner for ourselves?" Ron asked, causing Harry to chuckle as they walked companionably toward what could be accurately described as both of their childhood homes.

And that night, as Ron ate a delicious home-cooked meal surrounded by his family and his best mate, he realized how lucky he was. After all, if he could survive a bloody war, he could surely get through another month of missing Hermione. Seeing her had reminded him of what he had to look forward to; and now he knew, life could only go up from here.

* * *

A/N: Fun fact about this chapter—I got major writer's block at several points while writing it and somehow still ended up with a 6,000 word fluffy monstrosity, which is maybe a little strange considering I could summarize this chapter with "Ron and Hermione snog and talk." It'd be lovely if you'd let me know what you thought of it. :)

A note: the Christmas party that Hermione alludes to is not going to be featured in this fic, but I am considering writing a one-shot about it at some point. If I do, I'll mention so in an author's note. It's funny how the process of writing one fic really just facilitates the writing of many, many, many fics. I have several one shot ideas that might also make an appearance at some point. Tis a slippery slope, or as HalfASlug put it, a cliff.

I've got more final exams starting tomorrow, so I'll be busy again. I do promise that the next chapter will appear by Christmas. Thanks again for reading!


	6. Train

A/N: Thanks as always to all that have read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. :)

_**PLEASE NOTE:**_ I am flying down to Florida the day after Christmas and will be away until New Year's Day with little to no internet access. So, I will not be able to update, and it is unlikely that I will be able to respond to reviews/PMs during this time. Thanks in advance for your understanding—I'll be back online soon after I get back, so look for an update on the 2nd or 3rd of January! I'm really looking forward to the next chapter - it should be wait a bit of a longer wait!

Disclaimer: Turns out you can't wish your way into owning Harry Potter.

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"The Last Train (and the First Date)"

26 June 1999

After more than an hour aboard the Hogwarts Express, Hermione had finally determined that her last ride would also be her busiest. Though technically the term was over and her duties as Head Girl were completed, she couldn't bring herself to shirk even her self-assigned responsibilities. However, after her third patrol and only two scoldings, she couldn't bring herself to do it anymore—a year of being the Head Girl and revising for NEWTs had made her _tired_, and truth be told, she needed some time to herself. This was her very last ride on the Hogwarts Express, after all. Without even attempting to find Ginny or Luna, Hermione immediately claimed the first open compartment she found and laid down across one of the seats, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.

So at last her days at Hogwarts had come to a close. Though she'd miss it, Hermione was far more relieved than she'd expected to be. Of course, her expectations had originally been that she'd finish her seventh year on time with her two best friends at her side. She loved Ginny and Luna dearly, but they weren't Harry and Ron. Though she'd been able to see the boys about once a month, twice if she was lucky, she couldn't deny that she was looking forward to being able to see them every day—especially Ron, if she was being honest with herself. She, Harry, and Ron would always be a trio, but they had definitely coupled off and really, in some ways, were better for it. And she was moving into her very own flat come August, around the time she was meant to start her new job (_job—_she really was an adult now, wasn't she?) with the Care of Magical Creatures Department at the Ministry. This meant that really, the possibilities were endless when it came to Ron. Though she was alone, Hermione blushed. Maybe finally, after more than a year of stealing kisses and writing letters, they could _really_ start their relationship—properly.

A few moments later, Hermione was jolted from her thoughts by the sound of the compartment door opening. Her instincts from a year on the run kicking in, she immediately sat upright and shrieked, grabbing for her wand.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry and Ron chorused from the door, the latter man chuckling a bit at her demeanor. Both of them looked quite pleased with themselves. Hermione, however, did not relax immediately.

"Ron, what did you do to Scabbers on our first train to Hogwarts?" she asked with what he probably considered unwarranted suspicion. But it was better to be safe than sorry, she thought to herself.

Ron frowned a moment, as if he were thinking. "I think I tried to turn him yellow. Why?"

Harry caught on faster. "And what had Neville lost that day, Hermione?"

"His toad. Where did we spend Christmas Eve last year?"

"In Godric's Hollow, almost getting killed by a giant snake," Harry replied, cracking a grin. "Believe it's us yet?"

"Yes. Now what are you doing here?" she asked accusingly, putting her wand back in her pocket.

"Nice to see you too, love," Ron said grumpily, stepping fully into the compartment.

"Right, sorry," Hermione said absently, standing up to give Harry a hug and Ron a quick kiss on the lips. After they settled into their seats, Hermione next to Ron and Harry across from them, she resumed her questioning. "I'm serious. Why are you here?"

She didn't miss the shifty glance the boys exchanged. "We may have snuck on board," Ron said lightly.

"You did _what?_ But there's security!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice quickly rising into a shriek again.

"Hey, give us some credit. We did break into Gringotts, y'know," Harry replied.

"She's just mad we can do it without her," Ron teased, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a light squeeze.

"Does your mother know you're here?" Hermione inquired wearily, realizing it was unlikely they'd pay any heed at all to her scolding.

"We may have told her we had permission," Ron said nonchalantly.

"But couldn't breaking in some place get you in trouble at work?" Hermione asked pointedly.

"Unlikely. We're on a first name basis with the Minister of Magic, y'know," Ron replied cockily.

"Relax, Hermione. We wouldn't have done it if we didn't know we could get away with it," Harry said in an attempt to calm her, but she just sent him a glare.

"You'd think newly trained Aurors would know better," she grumbled, but leaned her head on Ron's shoulder nonetheless, knowing it was better just to drop the subject.

"We couldn't let you take your last train ride alone," Harry said smoothly.

"Why are you alone, anyway? Where's Ginny and Luna?" Ron asked.

"I don't know. I was doing my patrols for awhile, but I needed a break so I took the first empty compartment I found," Hermione replied, straightening up as Ron removed his arm from her shoulders. As many times as Harry told them he was fine being the third wheel, they could both sense when he was starting to get a tad uncomfortable.

"Why are you doing patrols on the train ride home?" Harry asked.

"Because she's Hermione," Ron smirked. "Gotta milk everything out of that Head Girl position, yeah?"

"Quiet, you," Hermione said dismissively. "I'm not patrolling anymore, am I?"

"Good. You work too hard," Ron replied sincerely. "You'll do enough of that next month, why start now?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's always better to be prepared."

"Really? I think there's something charming about running in head first unawares," Ron quipped. "Or maybe we've just done that enough that I've grown fond of it."

Harry laughed. "Just don't tell Robards that's our strategy."

"Don't tell me about strategy, I got top marks in that," Ron said, puffing out his chest proudly.

"You got your test results back? Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"We just got them yesterday," Harry said.

"And?" Hermione prompted in anticipation.

"Passed with flying colors," Ron said happily. "Both of us. We've got a week off, and then we report to Price—he's the head of domestic affairs—next Monday morning."

"That's wonderful! I just knew you'd pass, of course, but congratulations!" Hermione said warmly, pecking Ron on the cheek before reaching across the compartment to squeeze Harry's arm.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry replied. "Ron really did get tops in strategic maneuvers, y'know. He did brilliantly."

Hermione turned and beamed at Ron, who was blushing at Harry's praise. "I was shit at healing charms though," he said embarrassedly.

"Top marks in anything is really impressive, Ron," Hermione insisted. More than a year of being his girlfriend had taught her that he did thrive on the praise of others, even if he acted embarrassed upon receiving it.

"Thanks," he said, smiling at her appreciatively. "And hey, I was second at dueling to this tosser," he said, gesturing nonchalantly toward Harry, who batted his arm as if he was trying to throw off the compliment.

"That's fantastic. For both of you, really," Hermione said. "See, you both could've had top marks at Hogwarts too, if you'd only applied yourselves."

Ron rolled his eyes. "It's a lot easier to apply myself when it's something I care about. Sorry, but I was never going to be interested in Potions or History of Magic."

"Well, I'm glad you've found something you can put your heart into," Hermione said, unable to resist kissing him one more time.

"Gross," Harry said good-naturedly.

"Says the man defiling my sister," Ron replied.

"That's rude, Ron," Hermione scolded half-seriously, knowing neither of the boys were particularly taking the conversation to heart but feeling obligated to say something nonetheless.

"I even missed your nagging," Ron said, laughing in response.

"I don't nag—"

"Yeah, you do," Harry said laughing. "You might as well just admit it."

Hermione threw him a dirty look. "I see whose side you're on, Harry Potter."

"The right side, of course," Ron said jovially.

"I see him more often than you, so it's in my best interest that if one of you's peeved at me, it's not him," Harry said reasonably, but his eyes gave away that his comments were in jest.

Hermione sighed dramatically. "All these years and the majority of the time you two still act like you're twelve."

"We've got to be immature when we can," Ron rationalized, "seeing as we're meant to be proper adults now."

"Y'know, we've been doing more or less everything for ourselves since the end of our sixth year, but it's only now that I actually feel grown up," Harry remarked thoughtfully.

"Me too," Hermione agreed. "I think it's because it's not as though the last two years have followed the normal coming-of-age process."

"I dunno, I kind of felt different when I left the Burrow," Ron said. "But you're right, it hasn't felt normal til now, cos we haven't really had jobs to do or bills to pay. Or easily accessible girlfriends," he added as an afterthought, throwing a winning grin in Hermione's direction.

"And in what way is having an 'easily accessible' girlfriend necessary to the growing up process?" Hermione asked shrewdly.

"Added bonus," Ron said. "Speaking of which, I'm taking you out tonight."

"You are?" Hermione asked in a tone that was probably more surprised than Ron would have liked it to be. "I don't know if my parents were planning anything—"

"They aren't," Ron said promptly. "And they know you've got plans. I asked your mum about what muggle restaurants you like."

Hermione frowned. "When did you talk to my mum?"

"Didn't I tell you? They came to the Burrow for dinner a couple weeks ago."

"They did?"

"Yeah, I was there too," Harry said. "Mrs. Weasley made some fantastic soup and your parents brought sugar-free desserts, which, by the way, are actually way better than they sound."

"How did it go? You could've told me," Hermione said, virtually ignoring Harry's comment and turning to Ron.

"It was good. Your dad's starting to like me, I think," Ron replied. "Or he likes me better than Harry, anyway. I think it's cos my teeth are whiter."

"My dad never disliked you," Hermione said dismissively, "and I'm sure he doesn't care whose teeth are whiter."

"He did suggest I switch my toothpaste," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"You're kidding?" Hermione's eyes widened. She knew her dad lacked tact in some situations, but surely….

"Yeah, I'm just taking the piss," Harry assured her. "Did you seriously believe me?"

"Her dad's pretty blunt," Ron said. "At Christmas he saw us snogging and proceeded to question my intentions in front of their dinner guests."

"No way," Harry said disbelievingly.

"It's true," Hermione sighed. "But it wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be," she added, poking Ron's knee.

"Still uncomfortable."

"Yes, definitely." Hermione shuddered, recalling the rather personal questions that had been posed to them during Christmas Eve dinner. Luckily, Ron had been able to talk his way out of the worst of it.

"Glad I'm not the one trying to date you then," Harry said. "For multiple reasons," he added teasingly.

"You aren't good enough for her anyways," Ron retorted cheerfully. "She only dates real men, thank you very much."

"Then why's she with you?" Harry shot back.

"I'll have you know, Potter—"

"That she's right here and doesn't think the two of you are funny," Hermione said smoothly. The three of them looked at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. Though even they weren't entirely sure what was so funny, they were laughing hard enough that none of them noticed the compartment door slide open a minute later.

"Hermione, what's going—Harry!" Ginny cried as she entered the compartment. "What're you doing here?"

"Hello, only sister," Ron shouted indignantly as Ginny leaned down to wordlessly greet her boyfriend.

When she surfaced a minute later, Ginny greeted Ron by lightly punching his arm and bopping him on the head. "Why're the two of you here?"

"They aren't supposed to be," Hermione said sternly.

"But you're glad to see us anyways," Ron quipped, grabbing one of her hands and threading his fingers through hers.

The foursome spent the rest of the train ride laughing and chatting. They were eventually joined by Luna, who gave them a thorough description of the Snorglesnuff-gathering she'd be doing in Spain with her father over the summer. Eventually, the train pulled into Platform 9 ¾. Ginny and Luna left to locate their trunks, and Ron took Hermione's for her, refusing to hear anything to the contrary. Together, Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the Hogwarts Express for the last time.

The scene at the platform was hurried; the Weasley parents were in a bit of a rush, as Charlie was due home from Romania any moment and Molly couldn't fathom the idea of him coming home to an empty house. Ron gave Hermione a chaste kiss before telling her to expect him at seven that night, and they went their separate ways. Hermione would be staying with her parents for the first few weeks of the summer until she was ready to move into her flat. It had been nearly two years since she'd last lived there for so long, and both her mum and her dad seemed to be excited at the prospect. They spent the car ride home discussing the activities they'd planned for her stay, which included dinner out most evenings and several trips to museums and cinemas.

"You can invite your friends along any night, if you like," her mum told her as they parked the car outside their house. "It'd be lovely to get to know them better."

"I'll ask them," Hermione said. "Harry and Ron have this week off of work, so I'm sure they'd love to tag along a few times. Ginny doesn't have much to do until training camp, either."

"Ginny is Ron's sister, right?" her dad asked as he helped her lift her trunk and carry it to the house.

"Yes dear, and she's going out with Harry," Mum answered for her.

"Paired off nicely, haven't you?" Dad remarked. "I suppose that makes it easier for Harry to deal with you and Ron kissing all the time."

"Dad! We don't snog in front of Harry," Hermione said indignantly, her cheeks flushing.

"Honestly dear, let's not give them a hard time. Remember Christmas?" Mum said, her eyes twinkling. Hermione shot her a grateful glance.

At six, after a pleasant afternoon of tea and reminiscing with her parents, Hermione found herself searching frantically in her room for something to wear. She'd never been the type to care much about her clothing, but she found it hard to believe that she didn't own _anything_ appropriate for a dinner date with her boyfriend.

"Hermione dear, I almost forgot," Mum's voice came from the door as she rapped lightly and entered. "I got you something."

"Oh Mum, you didn't have to," Hermione said absently, still rifling through her wardrobe.

"Turn around, sweetheart."

Hermione did as she was told to see that Mum was holding a dark green, knee-length sundress and a light denim jacket. "I took the liberty of doing some shopping after Ron asked me about restaurants," she said, holding the clothes out to Hermione with a warm smile.

"Thank you so much, Mum," Hermione said gratefully, hugging her mother briefly after taking the dress and the jacket.

"It's not a problem, dear. Do you mind if I help you fix your hair? I've always waited for the day I'd help my daughter get ready for her first date," Mum said, looking dangerously emotional for the occasion.

"Of course," Hermione replied, beginning to change into the dress. "It's sort of ridiculous, isn't it? Having our first proper date more than a year after we got together?"

"You and Ron don't seem to be a particularly traditional couple," Mum responded with amusement. "It was so sweet of him, to ask me for advice. He seems like such a good man, darling."

"He is," Hermione said, smiling. She pulled on the denim jacket and turned to admire her figure in the mirror. "They fit perfectly, Mum. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now have a seat and let me see what I can do with your hair," Mum replied tenderly.

Hermione nodded and closed her eyes contently as Mum began to comb her fingers through her bushy curls. The only people she'd ever allowed to touch her hair were her mum and Ron, albeit for very different reasons. They had a lot in common in other ways, though. Along with her dad and Harry, they were the only people in the world she knew would always be there for her. "Mum?" Hermione asked after a moment of thought.

"Yes dear?"

"I'm very much in love with Ron, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't know if I've ever told you as much."

"You didn't need to, dear," Mum responded. "The way you look at each other speaks volumes."

Hermione smiled. "I thought so. But still, I thought you might want to hear it from me."

"Can I ask you something, sweetheart?" Mum asked as she began to tease mousse into Hermione's hair.

"Of course."

"Are you being…careful?" Mum inquired hesitantly.

"Careful? What do you—oh!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes fluttering open. "I don't—we're not—"

"Even so, you will. And probably sooner rather than later" Mum said knowingly, in a surprisingly calm tone. "I have to be honest; I'm a bit surprised that you haven't already."

"I just—it's never been the right time," Hermione said vaguely, her cheeks darkening considerably.

"No?"

"I'm a bit nervous, anyway," she confessed, wishing the conversation would end but feeling as though, at the very least, she owed her mother honesty. Not complete honesty, though—she wasn't in the mood for a long discussion about her insecurities.

"Well of course you are, dear," Mum responded reasonably, reaching for some hair pins that lay on Hermione's vanity. "But don't let that stop you if you're ready. Everyone's nervous at first."

"I wasn't ready for a long time," Hermione admitted, "but I think I—I want to. Soon."

"If he's a good man, which I think he is, he'll make sure you feel comfortable," Mum assured her. "But of course, use your head, and do make sure you have all your bases covered. I'm not quite ready for grandchildren."

"Of course, Mum. We've got a potion for that, in our world. I've been—I've been taking it for awhile, actually. Just in case," Hermione said, her blush as red as Ron's hair.

"Good. I know this is strange for you to talk about with your old mum, Hermione, and I don't expect you to tell me when you decide to take that step," Mum said, putting the last pin in her hair. "But it is my job, as your mum, to make sure you're on the right track. You always have been, of course, but it never hurts to double check. There, you look lovely."

Hermione smiled into the mirror. Her hair was still twice the size of a normal person's, but her mum had pinned some of it back and tamed it a bit, which left it looking almost…pretty. "Thank you, Mum. For everything," Hermione said sincerely, taking her mother's hand.

"You're welcome, love. Now, I know you don't like to wear makeup, and you don't need it at any rate, but would you like a bit of eye shadow or mascara? At least to indulge me a bit?" Mum asked.

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said. "But not too much!" she called as her mother bustled to the next room to collect the materials.

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione spun around in the mirror one more time. She looked very nice, if she did say so herself. Mum was really very good with makeup, and had managed to put on just the right amount to accentuate her eyes in a way that she quite liked. She smoothed down the front of her dress and took a deep breath. She had no reason to be nervous—she'd been dating Ron for more than a year, after all. They already loved each other. Still, even if he loved her, she wanted to impress him.

A few minutes later, she heard the doorbell ring and made her way downstairs, grabbing her beaded bag on the way out of her room by force of habit. When she reached the doorway, she found Ron in conversation with her dad and coughed to make her presence known. Ron's goofy grin at the sight of her made her infinitely glad that her mother had found preparing for this date to be so important.

"You look great, Hermione," he said, holding out a hand which she took instantly.

"So do you," she replied, taking in his dress pants and dark blue button-up shirt. He certainly did clean up well, as Ginny would say.

"Let me take a couple of pictures before the two of you leave," Mum said as she entered the room, brandishing a camera.

"What is it with mothers and cameras?" Ron muttered, but wrapped an arm about Hermione's waist and smiled nonetheless.

After a few goodbyes and a half-serious "have her back early" from her dad, Ron and Hermione were at last out the door. They didn't make it far before Ron pulled Hermione into him and kissed her purposefully. She responded immediately, hugging his torso and deepening the kiss.

"Sorry," he said when they pulled back several blissful moments later. "You just look so fucking pretty, I couldn't help it."

"Don't apologize," she said, blushing at his compliment and taking his hand as they began to walk again. "But do watch your language."

"But it's so fun to swear," Ron teased, squeezing her hand.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Where are we headed, anyway?"

"Your mum said there's an Italian place you like a few blocks away, so I thought we could just walk there. Unless you want to apparate," he said hurriedly.

"No, walking sounds nice," Hermione said, smiling up at him. "So did Charlie get home alright?"

"Yeah, but not without a few new scratches for Mum to fuss over," Ron replied. "It's good I made plans with you tonight. She hasn't stopped pestering him about settling down since he walked in the door."

Hermione laughed lightly. "How old is he now?"

"Er…twenty-six, I think," Ron replied. "It's not like he's getting on in years or anything, but I think it annoys Mum that he's always been more interested in dragons than in women."

"Has he ever had a girlfriend?" Hermione asked.

"Not one serious enough to introduce to Mum and Dad. I'm sure he's had dates though," Ron said. "Fred and George always told me he was popular with the birds at Hogwarts."

Hermione noticed the hitch in his voice as he said Fred's name and squeezed his hand gently. "I've never really understood the idea of dating casually," she said conversationally.

"I dunno, he probably just hasn't met anyone special yet," Ron replied thoughtfully.

"Special?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

"Yeah, special. Like—I dunno. You. You're special," he said, stammering a little over his words. "It's different with you and me, y'know. We didn't have to do the casual thing."

Hermione smiled and brought her free hand to rest on Ron's arm, leaning her head into him as they walked. "I love you," she said sincerely.

His grip on her hand tightened. "I love you too," he replied. The rest of the walk was spent mostly in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by their familiar banter. When at last they reached the restaurant, they were seated almost immediately at a small table near the door to the kitchen, which made Ron both very excited and very hungry. They were quick to order their food, and Ron even requested a fancy bottle of champagne for them to share. All in all, the evening was shaping up to be very romantic.

They were just finishing up their salads and waiting for the main course when Ron cleared his throat. "Hermione?" he said tentatively, something she considered strange seeing as they'd been talking comfortably all night.

"Yes?" she replied in what she hoped was an encouraging voice.

"I got you something," he said, reaching into his pocket.

"Oh Ron, you didn't have to."

"Just to celebrate you getting top marks in all your NEWTs."

"The results of which I haven't got yet."

"But you will, and you'll be tops," he said firmly, holding out a small box. "Take it, or I'll feel like a tit."

Hermione gave him a pointed look but obliged, too curious and thankful to argue further. She glanced up at him once more, taking in his anxious look, before opening the box and gasping. "Oh Ron, it's beautiful," she breathed, removing the small glass figurine of a castle, clearly crafted in the likeness of Hogwarts. "Where on Earth did you get it?"

"There's a shop in Hogsmeade that sells them," he said, clearly pleased that she liked it. He looked around quickly, before whispering, "Tap it once with your wand."

Hermione checked once more to make sure no one was looking before pulling out her wand and following his instructions. She gasped again as images of herself, Harry, and Ron appeared on the surface of the glass.

"Mum helped me with the charm," he said embarrassedly.

Hermione raised her eyes. "That's really impressive magic! It's so beautiful, Ron, I love it. Thank you so much." She tapped it once again with her wand to clear the pictures, not wanting to raise anyone's suspicions.

Ron smiled. "It's not a problem. I wanted to get you something special today. I know Hogwarts always meant a lot to you."

"It does. But you and Harry mean more to me," Hermione said honestly. "It's perfect."

"Remember this when I get you a shit birthday gift, yeah?" Ron joked, but he looked quite pleased with himself.

Just then, their waiter returned with their meals, and the conversation slowed as they both tucked in heartily. "This really is a good restaurant," Ron commented as he ate the last few bites of his ravioli. "If I were you I'd come here every other night."

"I would, but I'd rather not weigh as much as a bus," Hermione replied primly, taking another dainty bite of her spaghetti.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I don't think you could ever get fat, love."

"I could if I ate too much," Hermione insisted. "I've gained a lot in the past year, actually."

"Only because you were scary small last spring," Ron replied.

"Still, I haven't got your metabolism," she said dismissively.

"Whatever. You're still fit," he said, putting his fork down decisively as he finished his dinner. "Any chance you want dessert?"

Hermione, who was still inexplicably blushing at Ron having called her _fit_, agreed to the prospect of dessert in the form of a chocolate cake, which they shared in a way that was fitting for any romance novel. When they left the restaurant, Hermione was certain she'd explode from the amount of food she ate. Nevertheless, she managed to walk the few blocks back to her house, arm in arm and laughing with Ron all the way.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked him when they reached her doorstep.

Ron shook his head. "Mum will want me back before too long. Harry and I said we'd stay there this week. She wanted me to invite you and your parents over for brunch tomorrow, by the way."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said. "I don't think we have any plans."

"Perfect," Ron replied, leaning in to kiss her soundly on the mouth. Hermione couldn't help but smile against his lips as they kissed.

When at last they broke apart, she sighed. "I wish you didn't have to go."

Ron bit his lip, seeming to struggle with himself, before saying, "Do you…do you think maybe—if you want that is—maybe I could come over…later, that is."

Hermione's eyes must have widened a bit in surprise, because he continued hurriedly, "Just because I know we both sleep better when we're not alone, and we've got no reason to be alone, so I just thought—but if it's weird since your parents are home or whatever, then I understand—"

Hermione cut him off with a swift kiss. "I think you should. Come over, that is. My parents don't have to know you were here. I don't think they'd mind, anyway, if we're just sleeping," she said, thinking back to her conversation with her mum earlier.

"Okay," Ron said, checking his watch. "I'll be over round midnight then?"

"Good. You can apparate straight into my room," she replied.

He smiled at her. "I love you."

"I love you," she replied, and he kissed her once more before they muttered their goodbyes, which were really just see-you-laters, and then he turned to walk toward the park they used as an apparition point.

As she entered her house, Hermione couldn't help but grin stupidly as she took the Hogwarts figurine out of her jacket pocket and thought about how wonderfully her first proper date had gone. If only she'd known, on her first train ride, all that would happen between then and her last. But then again, she'd never have believed it. She still could hardly believe it. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't a fairy tale, but it was her story. It was the story of herself, of Ron, of Harry, and of everyone she knew and loved—and she might not know the ending, but she was sure glad she was living it.

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A/N: Possibly a bit rough around the edges (and almost too fluffy to function), but I wanted to make sure I got the next update posted before I leave for my trip in the morning. Please let me know what you thought and don't hesitate to point out anything that seems a bit off, because it's entirely possible I missed a weird mistake. I will get back to you as soon as possible. :)

Thank you so much again. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year to you all!


	7. Morning

A/N: Thanks so much to all who've read, reviewed, favorited, and put this story on alert. And this time, a special thank you for your patience since it's taken me a bit longer than usual to update due to holidays, trips to Florida, etc. Now that I'm back in the swing of things, updates will be coming more quickly.

As I'm sure you can tell from the chapter title, this fic will now be earning its T rating. I'd just like to throw it out there that I do not write smut, and as such there will be no smut in this fic. There will, however, be allusions to the fact that Ron and Hermione now do more than just sleep in the bedroom. ;) Hopefully this is a system that works for all.

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.

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"The First Morning After"

25 September 1999

Despite the fact that she lived in her very own flat, held a proper job at the ministry, and paid all her own expenses, Hermione Granger supposed that she had never felt quite so much like an adult as she did when she awoke one morning in late September to find herself naked, lying in very close proximity to her equally naked boyfriend. Maybe it was the fact that she'd lost her virginity without having to sneak around and feel dirty about it. Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd now have to answer "yes" when the muggle doctor she still saw asked her if she was sexually active. At any rate, Hermione knew she felt a bit different that morning—more grown up.

But at the same time, it was as though nothing had changed at all, she thought as she lightly stroked Ron's arm, which was draped unceremoniously over her bare stomach. This felt right. She was glad they'd waited, yes, but now that they'd taken that next step, she couldn't imagine things being any other way. Then again, every moment of the past eight years had led to this, and if they hadn't waited so long and allowed so many other things to happen first, then maybe this moment wouldn't be so special. Hermione shook her head. She was thinking too much again. If she'd learned anything last night, it was that sometimes it was best to stop thinking. Sometimes it was best just to _feel_.

Ron shifted a bit next to her, and she shivered as she felt his skin brush against hers. It had really happened. It had been awkward and fumbling, but it had also been sweet and honest and _perfect_. Hermione had always heard that sex was mediocre the first time, and she supposed that in some ways it was. It had definitely hurt a bit initially, and it didn't really last long once the actual intercourse started. But despite a bit of clumsiness at first, Ron had been gentle and attentive. He'd made her feel so incredibly loved, on a level so much deeper than words alone could express. Hermione couldn't deny that she'd been a bit nervous about being so exposed in front of anybody, but it was as if he'd thrown her insecurities across the room along with her knickers. Afterward, once they'd both caught their breath and wiped the sheen of sweat from their faces, they'd held each other close and talked, more openly than ever before, about everything they used to avoid: feelings and emotions and _love_, or as Ron called it, "all that mushy stuff." Hermione smiled at the memory. It'd easily been one of the best nights of her life.

Not one to lie in bed for too long, Hermione soon leaned over to kiss Ron lightly on the cheek, receiving only a snore in response, before slowly extracting herself from the bed. She briefly considered waking Ron and inviting him to join her in the shower, but quickly shot that idea down when she realized that it was highly unlikely they'd have enough coordination to do such a thing on their second go. Besides, she thought, blushing, they'd have plenty of time for _experimentation_ later. So she moved into the bathroom alone, nearly getting her foot caught on the way, in the straps of a bra that had somehow found itself clear across the room from the bed. As she turned on the hot water for her shower, Hermione began to reminisce about the night before…

_12 Hours Earlier_

"The point is, that film was really strange, Hermione," Ron remarked as they climbed the last flight of stairs that led to her flat on the third floor of what was admittedly an old, creaky building. Though it was located in a perfectly safe area of the city, Ron had never liked the look of it and always insisted on walking her to the door after their dates. Hermione had stopped protesting awhile ago.

"It was your idea to see it," she reminded him. "If you'd just listened to me we could've seen that French film at the theatre down the street—"

"What, and have been bored out of my mind for three hours?"

"Two hours and forty-six minutes, actually. And there would have been subtitles."

"Not the point," Ron muttered, but he dropped the subject. "Dinner was really nice."

"Yes, we should get seafood more often," Hermione agreed, fishing her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door. She'd gotten her door fixed so that it couldn't be opened by magic, a safety precaution that Ron understood and appreciated, but still considered a bit unnecessary considering the complicated wards she'd placed on her flat that allowed only himself, Harry, Ginny, and her parents to enter without Hermione's accompaniment. Nonetheless, it only took a second longer to use a key than a wand, and they were soon able to enter her flat. It was fairly small, featuring what was really an excuse for a kitchen, a sitting room adorned with more furniture than could really reasonably fit, a bedroom, and a single bathroom, but it was Hermione's and she loved it.

Hermione crossed the sitting room into the kitchen and began to fix them some tea. She heard the sound of Ron taking his shoes off and tossing them toward the door, but she made a concentrated effort not to scold him, just this once. She had other plans for tonight, after all. She wasn't sure what it was—maybe the way he'd placed a protective hand on her waist when she'd been the object of drunken catcalls on the walk home, or maybe the way he'd teased her playfully while wearing that stupid smile of his—but she knew that she wanted tonight to be special. She'd known for awhile, really, but tonight seemed to be the perfect opportunity. They had nowhere to be but here, after all. While she didn't anticipate much protest from his side, she couldn't help that she was nervous. As she took two cups out of the cupboard, she called over to him casually, "Do you want to stay tonight?"

"Sure," Ron replied from his position at the small dining table. "Just let me pop back over to mine quick for some pyjamas. I don't really fancy sleeping in this," he said, gesturing toward the white button-down shirt and khakis he'd worn in the interest of looking semi-decent for their weekly date night.

Hermione sighed. Ron stayed over several nights a week without anything _else_ happening, but she didn't want that to be the case tonight. Clearly she'd have to swallow her nerves and be a little clearer about her intentions. He'd never been one for subtlety, after all. She bit her lip as she turned to face him completely, tea almost entirely forgotten. "I was kind of thinking you wouldn't need any pyjamas."

Ron's eyes widened immediately. "You mean—?"

Hermione nodded, still biting her lip. "I mean," she breathed.

He crossed the room in an instant and trapped her between himself and the kitchen worktop, placing his hands on her waist and bringing his face not inches away from hers. "You're sure?"

"I was never not sure," she replied honestly, running her hands slowly up and down his back. "I was only waiting for the right time."

"Now's the right time? After seeing a shit film and bickering about it the whole way home?" he teased softly.

"What's wrong with bickering? I love our bickering," she said.

"So do I," he whispered before brushing his lips against hers.

Hermione, however, pulled back before things went too far. "Harry. You need to tell him—where you are," she panted.

"Right," Ron said absently before leaning in to kiss her again.

"Seriously," she said a few minutes later when they finally broke apart. "Do you want him barging in here later to check if we're alright?"

At that thought, Ron dropped his hands immediately and stumbled over to the fireplace, clumsily chucking in some Floor Powder, shouting "Grimmauld Place!", and sticking his head in.

"OI! HARRY! Oh, hey Ginny. I'm staying at Hermione's tonight. But no funny business—just cause I'm not there doesn't mean I won't know!" He finished talking and returned to Hermione's side so quickly that Hermione was quite sure neither Harry nor Ginny had gotten the chance to get a word in edgewise.

"That's kind of hypocritical, you know," she said conversationally, though she knew it was a lost cause.

"Mhm," Ron replied distractedly before pulling her flush against him and pressing his lips into her neck. "Where were we?" he murmured against her skin.

"Bedroom," Hermione gasped, taking his hands and tugging him down the short hallway.

"Bedroom indeed," Ron said as they entered the room and stopped between the door and the bed. The two stared at each other for a minute, completely silent, before simultaneously jumping forward and kissing each other with as much passion as they ever had. And as clothes found their way to the floor and Ron and Hermione found their way to the bed, they at last shed the final barriers between them and came together completely.

_The Morning After Again_

When Hermione finished showering and returned to the bedroom to get dressed, Ron was still asleep. She smiled tenderly at his lanky form but did not disturb him. He deserved a day to sleep in, and they didn't have anywhere to be until lunch at the Burrow.

Ron had been working so hard since he'd officially joined the Auror Department at the beginning of July. As a Junior Officer, he was eager to prove his worth so that he'd get the best shifts. There weren't many night shifts to deal with since both he and Harry worked for the Office for Domestic Affairs, which tended to handle the smaller cases unless help was needed elsewhere (something both of the boys were thankful for after seven years of tackling the biggest case they would hopefully ever see). Nevertheless, Ron wanted to be considered for the coveted eight-to-six shift as often as possible. The morning shift was far too early for his taste, and getting stuck on the evening shift normally meant Hermione wouldn't be able to see him, something neither of them were keen on.

So far, though, he'd been pretty lucky. Ron had impressed his superiors early on, many of whom Hermione suspected hadn't been expecting much from "Harry Potter's best friend." But Ron had made a name for himself, and had quickly gained a reputation for being hard-working, intelligent, and accountable. It amazed Hermione, in some ways, how brilliant he was when he simply applied himself. She'd discovered that Ron was a man of extremes. He would put every ounce of his being into the things he was passionate about, and he would put little if any effort into the things he couldn't care less about. At any rate, he was quickly deemed more than capable of being on the busy day shift. He was only called in to the undesirable shifts once or twice a week, and both he and Harry had the privilege of only being on-call every other weekend. And luckily for Hermione, this weekend was not one of them.

Hermione, meanwhile, had taken a position in the legislative office of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Though she consistently worked regular hours, she often had to bring cases home in order to make sure she completed her work to the best of her ability. This weekend, however, she'd managed to leave most of her work at the office. She was certainly happy with that decision now, as it meant she had nearly the entire weekend free to be alone with Ron, save for the family luncheon that afternoon.

After dressing in Ron's button-down shirt from the night before and a pair of her own pyjama shorts, Hermione made her way into the kitchen. Feeling inexplicably domestic, she found all the ingredients to make Ron's favorite breakfast—bacon and eggs. She hummed to herself as she cooked, carefully following the proper steps to ensure that the finished product was edible. Though she wasn't a terrible cook, she was definitely not a master chef, and she certainly did not ascribe to the archaic stereotype that it was a woman's job to cook and clean—but she did put a considerable amount of effort into cooking for Ron. After all, if she didn't cook they'd likely be getting take-out for nearly every meal.

She was just setting two plates of food on the table when Ron padded into the kitchen, sporting wet hair and too-short pajama bottoms. "There you went," he said as he approached her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and nestling his face in her hair, which had already begun to dry into its normal bushy mess.

"I thought you might want some breakfast," she said, leaning into his embrace.

"Breakfast good. Want you more," came a muffled groan from somewhere near her left ear.

"Okay, caveman," Hermione laughed, "but just so you're aware, there's bacon on those plates."

"Like bacon," he grunted again. "Love you."

"I love you too," she replied, tugging on his arms until he loosened his grip. She turned around to tap him on the nose. "Now eat your bacon."

"Yes, ma'am," Ron obliged, sitting down to the table and digging in. He finished his food in what seemed like a matter of seconds, and then occupied himself with watching Hermione eat, an activity she found a little disconcerting. In fact, after a solid two minutes of being stared at, she couldn't take it anymore.

"What?!" she snapped, a little harsher than she'd originally intended.

Regardless of her tone, a slow grin spread across Ron's face. "We had sex," he informed her proudly.

"Yes, I was there," she replied matter-of-factly, returning to her food while eyeing him warily.

Ron smiled contentedly. "You love me." His seeming imitation of a five-year-old was spot on.

"Yes, but I don't always like you," she said pointedly.

He ignored the last half of her statement. "My life is fucking awesome."

"Mind your language," she said reflexively, finishing her food and gathering their plates.

"I could tell you the same thing," he replied, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.

"Bedroom talk will not be repeated outside of the bedroom," Hermione said primly, though she could feel her cheeks reddening. She set the dishes in the sink and cast a charm so that they would wash themselves.

"Come here," Ron said suddenly. Hermione obliged, and he pulled her down into his lap so that she was straddling him. "You should know that jokes aside, last night was seriously the best of my life."

"I know. Mine too," she replied. Resting her hands on his bare chest, she leaned in to kiss him softly. "Besides, I'd get worried if you didn't make stupid jokes from time to time."

"They're not stupid," he protested half-heartedly as his hands found their way underneath her—well, his—shirt.

"Immature, then," she conceded, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"You know better than anyone how _mature _I am," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but said, "Don't you ever change, Ron Weasley."

"See now, I knew you liked me this way," he replied, now working the buttons of her shirt.

"Our lives are serious enough already," she said. "Imagine how drab of a couple we'd be if we were both entirely serious in moments like this."

"Dunno," he said, his lips now somewhere around her collarbone. "I can't imagine ever being bored during moments like this." A moment later, his lips were decidedly covering her own. They didn't make it to the bedroom this time.

_Two Hours Later_

"We're late, Ron," Hermione called as she pulled on her jacket and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Only a few minutes. I guarantee Bill won't be there yet," Ron retorted, but he made his way into the kitchen nonetheless. Though he certainly hadn't needed pyjamas the previous night, neither of them had remembered that he'd need clean clothes for lunch at the Burrow. So, he'd chosen to re-wear his khaki pants from the night before. He'd even managed to find an old Weasley jumper that Hermione normally slept in and desperately tried to enlarge it, to little avail. He'd eventually settled with rolling the sleeves up so that no one could tell it was a little small. Hermione would have laughed, but she'd explicitly resolved not to.

"Well, come on then," she said, and one after the other they stepped into the fireplace and left for Ron's childhood home.

Hermione couldn't deny that she was a bit apprehensive about seeing Molly Weasley so soon after she'd played such an instrumental role in the loss of her youngest son's virginity. Though she was far from ashamed of their actions, she had no desire to broadcast it to the public, especially not to her boyfriend's mother. Ron, however, entered the Burrow with a goofy grin on his face and his hand firmly in Hermione's in a way that made it clear _something_ had happened.

Upon seeing them, Harry had merely muttered "I don't want to know," under his breath before inviting Ron to a game of chess. Ginny, however, took her first opportunity to pull Hermione out of the room and onto the staircase.

"You had sex," the younger girl said knowingly. "Now, I'm going to pretend it wasn't with my brother for a second and, as your closest female friend, ask you how it was. Briefly."

"How did you know?" Hermione asked anxiously, ignoring the latter part of Ginny's speech.

"You both look too happy for it to be a normal day, and due to the disgusting look of pure glee on Ron's face, I conclude that it was the first time. Now, if you don't want to tell me how it was, I won't object, because…eurgh, but I figured you might want—"

"It was great," Hermione interrupted, sensing that Ginny was a bit uncomfortable but was clearly trying to make an effort. "And he was very sweet, but don't tell him I told you that."

"Alright," Ginny said, smiling a little. "If he ever steps out of line—"

"I'll deal with him before you have to," Hermione finished smoothly. "Is it really that obvious?"

"A bit, yeah. Why?" Ginny asked as they began to make their way back to the rest of the family.

Hermione groaned. "Would _you_ want the entire family to know what you've done with Harry?"

Ginny pulled a face. "Point taken."

Almost immediately upon rejoining the others, Hermione could see that Ginny was right. The look on Ron's face was a bit ridiculous, and she didn't doubt that she was sporting a similar smile whenever she let her mind wander back to the night before…or earlier that morning. Immediately after he finished his game of chess with Harry, Hermione pulled Ron to the side.

"You've got to stop looking so happy," she hissed.

"Why? I am happy," Ron asked confusedly.

"So am I, but I don't need everyone to know!"

"And pray tell, why do you care if people know you're happy?"

"I just don't think that everyone needs to know that we…_made love. _Twice_,_" she replied pointedly.

"Made love?" Ron choked as he clearly tried to stifle his laughter. "Okay. And why wouldn't you want people to know that we did? Twice, even! We're adults now. Or at least that's the theory."

"Because I don't want your mother to think I'm a scarlet woman, that's why!" Hermione whispered heatedly, glancing around the room to ensure they weren't being overheard.

Ron chuckled. "You can't be a scarlet woman. You're only shagging me."

Hermione scowled at him. He responded by kissing her on the side of the mouth, which, although not the originally desired reaction, was not an altogether unpleasant one.

"Just relax, love," Ron said, taking her hand and leading her into the kitchen, where Mrs. Weasley was beginning to serve lunch. "My mum was already pregnant with Bill by the time she was your age; it's not like she can really judge you."

Hermione would have pointed out that Mrs. Weasley had been married at the time, but dropping the m-word didn't seem like the best idea when one was about to attempt to act normal at a family luncheon. Instead, she took a seat next to Ron and engaged in conversation with the rest of the family to the best of her ability, considering the large hand that quickly found its way to her thigh. She couldn't ignore the knowing looks that were being shot their way by virtually everyone at the table. This was it. They all knew it. She was approximately three seconds from standing up and screaming that yes, she'd had sex with the youngest Weasley son; that yes, she'd enjoyed it very much; and that yes, she intended to do it again. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley began to clear the plates before she embarrassed herself in such a way. Her relief was short-lived, however, when the Weasley matron asked for her help in the kitchen.

"Sorry to make you work, dear, but I wanted to chat," Mrs. Weasley said. "You can just watch if you like. There's not much to do. Or put the finished dishes in the cupboard, anywhere will do. There's a dear."

"It's not a problem, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said politely.

"But it's still appreciated," the elder woman responded. "Now I just wanted to say, Hermione, that it's clear to me you make my son very happy. I wanted to thank you for that. It's been a tough year for all of us, but Ron looks happier than ever, and I know that's largely because of the beautiful young woman in his life."

Taken aback by Mrs. Weasley's kind words, Hermione blushed. "He makes me happy, too," she replied simply.

"I'm glad to hear it. But I have to ask, dear, did something special happen last night? Now, I realize you're not wearing a ring, but—"

"Oh no, we aren't—I love Ron very much, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm really not ready to be married yet," Hermione said, blushing fiercely. "I think we both want to be somewhat established on our own first."

"Oh, that's perfectly alright dear. Take your time. I'm sorry to make you uncomfortable. You both just seem so happy today," Mrs. Weasley remarked, turning to look Hermione directly in the eye. She couldn't take it anymore. Something about the way Mrs. Weasley looked at her was so similar to her own mum that she just couldn't evade the truth.

"Last night was special," Hermione blurted.

"Oh?" Mrs. Weasley replied lightly.

"Ron spent the night, and we didn't just sleep, and I won't be ashamed about it because I'm twenty years old and he's my boyfriend and I love him," Hermione said very quickly, with no regard for run-on sentences.

"Oh, is that all?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking briefly nostalgic for a moment before adopting what Hermione thought to be a look of acceptance. "I should hope you wouldn't be ashamed of it. Ron certainly doesn't seem to be."

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Sorry—doesn't this…bother you?"

Mrs. Weasley laughed warmly. "I waited for marriage, but I learned long ago not to expect my children to make the same decision. I taught each of them about love and respect, and it certainly seems like you and Ron share those things. Just make sure you stay on the potion, dear. I'd rather plan your wedding before your baby shower."

Hermione smiled in agreement. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Anything for family, which you must know you're as good as," she replied, hugging Hermione briefly. "But I'm never going to get you or Harry to call me Molly, am I?"

"It'll take awhile," Hermione answered honestly, laughing as she placed the last of the dishes into their respective places. When she went to re-enter the sitting room with the rest of the Weasleys a moment later, she was met by Ron, who informed her in no uncertain terms that it was about time they left.

"This family cannot leave well enough alone, and if one more brother asks me about my _performance,_ there will be hexes thrown," he said tersely. Eager to get home herself, Hermione quickly said her goodbyes, during which she heard Ron tell Harry not to be concerned if he didn't turn up later, and the couple left through the back door, opting for Apparition over Floo Powder on the return trip.

"So you want to stay again tonight?" Hermione asked, threading her fingers through his as they approached the edge of the wards.

"Only if you want me to," he said hurriedly. "And you know it's not like I expect us to shag every time I come over now, right?"

"Of course not, and you'd be sorely disappointed if you were," she stated. "I enjoy it, but I enjoy being able to walk properly too," she added quickly upon seeing a hint of self-doubt upon Ron's face.

"Is there anywhere you have to walk tomorrow?" Ron asked casually.

"Not particularly," Hermione replied flirtatiously, "and I'm afraid you still haven't got pyjamas."

Ron's grin widened. "Excellent," he breathed, before pulling Hermione close and kissing her quite thoroughly. This time, they were lucky they even made it home first.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully that was at least a bit different from the thousands of other brilliant first time fics there are in existence. For such a big step taken by Ron and Hermione, this chapter ended up being much shorter than some of the others—but not to worry. The next one is going to have a bit more to it, and it should be coming soon with a MUCH shorter wait.

Thank you so much for reading, and please consider leaving a review to let me know what you think, like it or despise it. Getting feedback makes me a very happy lady. :) I hope that all you wonderful people have a wonderful weekend!


	8. Hypothetical

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support you've given this story! You're all fantastic. Stay awesome.

FYI: I posted a one-shot a few days ago called "When the World Comes Undone." It's not nearly as fluffy as this story, but it is a Ron/Hermione piece and some of it was inspired from bits of this fic. So, it's there if you'd like to give it a read. :)

Disclaimer: Just checked and apparently J.K. Rowling still owns Harry Potter.

* * *

29 October 1999

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to stay asleep but failing miserably. She'd been forced to take the day off because _apparently_ it was against ministry policy to go more than three months without taking a personal day. Hermione considered this policy utterly ridiculous, but complied nonetheless in order to avoid trouble. It was all for naught, though; she'd woken up the second Ron had got out of bed to go to work, and her efforts to go back to sleep were failing miserably.

With her eyes still determinedly closed, Hermione listened as Ron padded around her bedroom for a bit before his footsteps began to move toward the kitchen. She would get up when he came back in for his shower after breakfast, she decided. She'd brought a bit of work home for the long weekend that she could get started on right away. Her supervisor couldn't possibly expect her to go an entire day without working, after all. She'd need to be caught up for Monday regardless of ministry attendance policies, and she wanted to get a bit of work done before spending time with her mum later.

After a surprisingly short amount of time, Hermione heard familiar footsteps coming back into the bedroom. They were moving quickly, too—Ron was practically running. "What's wrong?" she asked groggily, lifting her head to look at him. Ron was pale white and naked, save for a pair of maroon underwear he must've put on before leaving the room. (Hermione knew very well that he hadn't been wearing them when they'd gone to bed the night before.) He was wearing a mortified expression. "What's happened?" Hermione repeated, hoping to break through his shell-shocked demeanor.

"Hermione," Ron said, fear and mortification evident in his voice. "Your _mum_ is in your kitchen."

"What?" Hermione stood up immediately, pretending not to notice (but really quite enjoying) the way Ron's eyes drifted immediately toward her naked body as she began to get dressed. "She wasn't meant to be here until lunchtime."

"Your mum is in your kitchen, and I was in my pants," Ron moaned.

"Ron—"

"I might as well have said, 'Hello Mrs. Granger! Do you like my penis? Your daughter certainly seemed to last night!'" Ron flopped back on the bed dramatically, covering his face with a stray cushion.

"I certainly hope you didn't say that," Hermione murmured, quickly running a comb through her hair. "I'm sure she won't make a big thing of it," she added comfortingly as Ron began to curl into the fetal position. She got only muffled groaning in response.

"I'm going to go to the kitchen now," Hermione announced, rolling her eyes as she snatched the cushion away from Ron. "Any chance you'll join me?"

"Are you joking? Not a one," Ron replied incredulously.

"You can't hide in here forever. She already knows you're here," Hermione sighed.

"Does the word 'stiffy' mean anything to you? I hadn't…you know, taken care of it yet!" he hissed.

"Oh honestly, I know it's a bit weird but that's a perfectly natural—"

"Can't expect me to look her in the eyes—"

"Ron. I know it's sort of embarrassing, but it's just my mum. Please." Hermione put on her best puppy-dog face, knowing he had a difficult time saying no to it. A perfectly fair tactic, she reckoned—he used the same maneuver several times a week.

"Fine. But I'm showering first," Ron conceded grumpily, sitting up.

"There's a good boyfriend." Hermione smiled, pecking him on the cheek before leaving the room and happily ignoring his mumbling complaints. Though she'd hidden it from Ron, she was a bit apprehensive about her mum walking in unannounced this morning, especially given the circumstances. However, Hermione was confident that her mum, at least, would approach the situation reasonably and tactfully.

"Morning, Mum. I didn't realize you were coming so early," Hermione said, squeezing the elder woman's shoulder in greeting as she entered the kitchen.

"Oh, I thought I might surprise you with a spot of breakfast in bed," Mum replied, looking up briefly from her cooking to smile at her daughter. "But I should've known you'd be up early, even if you've got the day off."

"I never could sleep in much past seven or eight," Hermione replied. "Do you need any help?"

"Oh no, dear, you sit down and relax. Now, when does Ron need to be into the office this morning?" Mum asked in an all-too-casual tone.

"He's got a briefing a little after eight," Hermione replied.

"Oh good, then he'll have time to eat as well," Mum said, opening the cupboard and pulling out three plates. She turned and looked at Hermione with a bit of a mischievous glint in her eye. "I see some things have changed since the last time I pestered you about your personal life."

"Yes," Hermione replied, a bit stiffly. "Ron's ever so embarrassed, Mum, please don't give him a hard time."

"You know I wouldn't," Mum scoffed, carefully scooping some eggs and sausage onto each of the plates. "Would you like some toast, dear?"

"Yes, please," Hermione replied. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I'm sorry, Mum, I didn't realize you'd be over for breakfast or I wouldn't have let Ron stay—"

"Don't apologize. You're a grown woman in your own home, and I've arrived unannounced," Mum answered, batting her hand at Hermione as if to throw off her apologies.

"Still must've been a bit weird for you," Hermione pointed out, reaching for her plate as Mum began to set the table.

"Well yes, I wasn't certainly wasn't expecting—but I'm sure it was worse for Ron," Mum said, taking a seat at the table. "Shall we wait for him, or does he take long showers?"

"He might this morning," Hermione muttered. "You're okay with this then, Mum?"

"Well, you're okay with it, yes?"

Hermione nodded. "More than okay."

"Then so am I," Mum smiled. "And he's certainly a handsome one, that man of yours."

"Mum!" Hermione shrieked.

"Do you not agree?" Mum asked, smirking.

"Of course I agree, but—Mum!" Hermione protested, beginning to feel Ron's mortification.

"Oh, let me have some fun dear. It's been ages since I've had someone to poke fun at; all my friends have been married a quarter century by now," Mum said. "I sound terribly old when I put it that way, don't I?"

"A bit," Hermione said solemnly. "If you can have your fun then I can have mine," she added primly as Mum shook her head, pretending to be offended.

The women's laughter was interrupted by an awkward cough as Ron, now fully clothed in his black Auror robes, entered the kitchen. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, eyeing Hermione warily.

"My mum's made breakfast," Hermione said cheerily, gesturing for him to sit next to her at the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Ron said stiffly, crossing the room and taking his seat. Hermione noticed that he was making a point to be polite, taking small bites and chewing with his mouth closed. She smiled to herself—perhaps there were some perks to her mum's unexpected presence this morning.

"Long shift today, Ron?" Mum asked conversationally.

"Short, actually," he answered. "I'm normally there til six, but as it's the weekend they're planning to let me leave around five, provided the raid goes well."

"Which it should, as they're fairly routine, correct?" Hermione interjected, picking up on the bit of worry that showed on her mother's face.

"Yeah. Robards and Price have got the domestic raids down to a science," Ron said, reaching for the jam and spreading it on two slices of toast—one for each of them, as was his routine. Hermione smiled, grateful for her mother's relaxed demeanor. Because of it, Ron seemed to have got over his previous embarrassment fairly quickly, though she could still detect a blush on his cheeks.

"I suppose they must," Mum said, smiling as she watched Hermione accept one of the slices of toast from Ron. "Do the two of you have any plans tonight?"

"I'm going to theirs once they're done working," Hermione answered. "Harry's going to try to cook for us, apparently."

Ron snorted. "I think he's gone mental. Do you know he actually went _grocery shopping_ the other day?"

"How else would one get groceries?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes.

Ron rolled his eyes right back at her. "I don't mean popping out to grab what you need. I mean right proper grocery shopping! He was out for nearly two hours. And he bought three cookbooks! Mental, I'm telling you."

"Ginny's been gone nearly two weeks," Hermione explained to Mum. "She normally gets weekends off at least, but Gwenog Jones—that's the coach of her squad—has just got that position and probably wants to prove her worth, so the team's been training non-stop."

"I'm sure Harry must miss her terribly," Mum remarked.

"Yes, he does, though he'll never admit it, of course," Hermione said. "Men and their emotions, you know."

"Oi, I resent that!" Ron protested.

Hermione ignored him. "At any rate, he's taken up cooking, though neither of us are sure why. Harry's never been particularly domestic."

"He's barmy," Ron repeated. "I watched everything he drank for days because I was so convinced he was Polyjuiced."

"What's Polyjuiced?" Mum asked curiously.

"Erm…it's a potion. If brewed properly, you can masquerade as another person for one hour," Hermione said delicately. "It's not exactly legal anymore."

"Ah." To her credit, Mum always did her best not to look alarmed when she learned something new about the magical world. Hermione had come to terms long ago with the fact that her parents would likely never understand many of the things she considered part of her daily existence, and they had a silent agreement to maintain the delicate balance between the magical and muggle aspects of her life.

Ron coughed again. "Well, it's about that time," he said awkwardly, taking his dish to the sink and using a self-cleaning charm on it. Hermione winced as Mum's eyes widened at the blatant use of magic.

Ron realized his mistake a second late, but Hermione shook her head slightly; it was best not to make a big deal of it. "I'll come to yours around five-thirty, if that's alright?" she asked, standing and brushing a bit of lint off his shoulder.

"I'll send my Patronus if they need me to stay late," he replied. He turned to glance at her mum, who was tactfully facing the opposite direction, before kissing Hermione quickly on the lips. She smiled and pulled him into a hug.

"Be careful. Love you," she whispered in his ear.

"Always am. Love you, too." He squeezed her lightly before stepping back from the embrace. "Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Granger," he called politely as he made his way to the fireplace.

"Of course, Ron. Have a good day!" Mum replied, placing the now clean dishes back in the cupboard.

"Same to the both of you," Ron said, giving Hermione a mock-salute before taking a handful of Floo Powder and throwing it into the fireplace. "The Ministry!" he shouted, before stepping in and disappearing.

"Oh dear, I always forget you lot can do that," Mum said, joining her daughter in the sitting room, which was really just an extension of the kitchen.

"You know perfectly well that I got a fireplace installed for the sole purpose of using the Floo network," Hermione reminded her.

"Yes, but all the same. Magic really is brilliant, if not a bit scary," Mum said. "Now, I was hoping we could go to some shops in London today, if you'd be alright with that."

"Okay, but I need a quick shower first," Hermione replied. She didn't particularly like shopping, but Mum had always loved doing "girly" things together and Hermione could never help but to indulge her. After all, when she was younger, she and Mum had spent just as much time in libraries as they had in clothing shops. The Granger women were nothing if not fair—in most circumstances, anyway.

Once Hermione had showered and dressed properly, they were off. Mum had apparently set out with an agenda—there were no less than six shops on her list, and she seemed determined to hit all of them before lunch. While some of their stops were errands she needed to run, Mum seemed to be most interested in persuading Hermione to try on various dresses and outfits that suited her fancy. It amused Hermione, sometimes, how her mum seemed to be a strange mix of her silly schoolmates and a reasonable woman. Other times, it simply irritated her. Today was somewhere in between, though the longer they were out, the more cross Hermione became. They were out for over five hours before they finally stopped for lunch, each holding several bags and nearly stumbling into a small pub that a starved and exhausted Hermione had spotted and loudly pointed out.

"So," Mum began once they'd summoned a waiter and ordered their lunches, "am I allowed to ask you about Ron again?"

"You can ask whatever you'd like, but I can't guarantee I'll answer," Hermione replied reasonably.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me how long it's been, then?"

Hermione pursed her lips, not having to ask to what her mother was referring. "About a month."

"And he's always respectful, yes?"

"Of course."

Mum smiled. "I had no doubts. He seems quite the gentleman when it comes down to it."

Hermione snorted a bit. "Perhaps in some ways, but not in most respects, I assure you. He makes an extra effort around you and Dad, too."

"That shows he respects us too, then," Mum said wisely. "Or at least fears us, both of which are good things."

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched.

"Does it really bother you to talk about it with me, dear?" Mum continued.

"It's just a bit strange," Hermione replied carefully. "I don't really talk about it much, especially not to my mum."

"Not to your girlfriends?" Mum asked, smiling and thanking the waiter as he returned with their lunches.

"That's mostly just Ginny," Hermione answered once they'd begun to eat, "and she doesn't fancy hearing much about my romantic relationship with her brother, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Well, I'd love to hear about it if you'd like, you know that," Mum continued. "I can't relate too well to much of your life, Hermione, but I understand things like this. Relationships and the like are universal, magic or not."

Hermione wasn't sure if the guilt trip was intentional, but she instantly felt a desire to share as much as she could. She'd kept so much from her mother over the years, though she'd wanted to let her in. Now, she finally had the opportunity. "What do you want to know?" she finally conceded.

"You never told me about the first time he kissed you," Mum pointed out. "I'm sure that must have a story to it, and I'd bet it's a better one than the time that Crummy boy kissed you."

Hermione smiled shyly. "I kissed him first."

Mum chortled. "Of course you did."

"We were about to fight for Hogwarts, actually," Hermione said seriously. "We weren't sure how it would turn out, and we were both scared out of our minds, but he'd been right there with me the whole night. And then he said something about the house elves, and you know I've spent years going on about them. I never thought he was listening, but he was and he was just so _him_ about it_,_ and I wasn't sure if it'd be my last chance—so I ran at him and just kissed him."

Mum smiled broadly. "And did he kiss you back?"

"Yes, he did," Hermione replied politely. "He literally lifted me off my feet, actually."

"He is quite tall," Mum remarked.

Hermione giggled. "Want to know something else?" At Mum's nod, she continued: "Harry was there."

Mum laughed merrily. "Oh, but of course. And how did that go over?"

"I think he had to shout at us about focusing for a good while before we even heard him," Hermione admitted with a chuckle, finding her mum's laughter infectious and this foreign concept of "girl-talk" rather fun.

"And you've been together since?"

"Basically. It wasn't really official til about a week after the fact, but there was so much else going on."

"I imagine," Mum nodded knowingly. "And how did it become official?"

"He kissed me," Hermione said, smiling at the memory—that day in general had been terrible, but that moment had meant the world. "Twice. And then it stopped mattering who kissed whom because we both wanted to kiss each other, a lot."

"It's lovely to see you so happy, dear. You must know that's all I want, to know that you're happy," Mum said, reaching across the table to grasp Hermione's hand.

"I'm very happy," Hermione admitted, blushing. "He's my best friend. I can be my whole self around him, Mum, and he still wants to be around me. Sometimes that still amazes me."

"That's the way it should be," Mum replied warmly. "You're a beautiful, incredible person, Hermione."

Hermione tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "You're my mum, you're meant to say that."

"But Ron's not," Mum reminded her.

"Exactly," Hermione said, giggling. She was quite certain her past self would have chastised her for getting all girly over the fact that a boy thought she was pretty, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After all, the Hermione from two years ago hadn't expected to be alive by now, let alone in a pub with her mother, who remembered exactly who she was, sharing details about her boyfriend, who just so happened to be Ron Weasley.

Hermione and her mum stayed in the pub long after they finished their lunches, chatting away like they hadn't in ages. Afterward, they began to make their way back to Hermione's flat, multiple shopping bags in tow. They separated once they reached the place Mum had parked her car.

"Do come round for dinner next weekend, will you?" Mum asked as she hugged Hermione close.

"Of course. I'll phone you in a few days," Hermione replied.

"And please do bring Ron, but I'd suggest you make sure he's dressed. I don't think your father would have a particularly favorable reaction to the contrary," Mum teased, winking.

"Oh, ha," Hermione rolled her eyes and blushed. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too, darling," Mum replied. "Have a good evening, and send my love to Harry and Ron."

"Will do," Hermione smiled, turning on her heel and walking the short way to her building. It really had been a lovely day, she thought as she began to climb the stairs. She'd had a very close relationship with her mum before she went to Hogwarts, and she was glad that they were beginning to reconnect. Though they'd never truly disconnected, she supposed, they were finally getting back to where they'd once been, and Hermione couldn't be happier. Still grinning as she reached her door, she turned the key in the lock and opened it to find a certain red-headed man sitting at the kitchen table.

"Oh! Hello, Ron. You gave me a bit of a fright. It's only four o'clock," she exclaimed, setting her bags down on the couch. Only then did she notice that he was resting his head in his hands with a morose expression on his face. "Ron, what's wrong?"

He looked up suddenly, as if he'd just noticed her presence. Without a word, he stood up and crossed the room in three strides before pulling Hermione into a fierce hug. She immediately returned his embrace, grasping the back of his shirt as they began to sway slightly. "Tough raid," she heard him say into her hair. She nodded and rubbed his back comfortingly. She knew better than to ask what had happened; Hermione had learned early on that even if he wanted to talk about it, the Aurors weren't allowed to say much about the cases they worked until all the paperwork had been filed.

She wasn't sure how long they stood there, holding each other in the middle of her flat. But a few minutes later, she felt the tell-tale lips on her neck. A grin spread across her face as Ron planted soft kisses on her neck, her chin, her cheek, her nose, and finally, her mouth. As much as she enjoyed their heated snogging (and shagging, if she was being honest), Hermione appreciated these slow, relatively chaste kisses just as much. She smiled against his mouth as she kissed him back, feeling incredibly lucky to be in love with this man.

They broke apart a couple minutes later, and Hermione gestured toward the table. "Sit down and I'll make you some tea."

"Thanks, love," he responded. She could sense the weariness in his voice as he once again rested his head in his hands. "How was your day with your mum?"

"Very good," Hermione said honestly. "She talked me into buying a new dress," she added, deciding to try to take his mind off whatever had happened in the office earlier.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, and of course I've got nowhere to wear it, but she convinced me nonetheless. Perhaps to the Ministry's holiday party; we'll both be invited this year, you know. It's a nice navy blue, it'll probably go nicely with your eyes."

"And why does your dress need to match my eyes?" Ron asked. Hermione turned from the stove to face him for a moment and was glad to see an amused glint in his eye.

"It doesn't, but that was one of the reasons Mum told me to buy it," she replied.

Ron chuckled quietly. "Your mum's a bit mental. Must be where you get it from."

"Perhaps," Hermione said lightly. "At any rate, I had a good day."

"Good," Ron said. There was a comfortable silence for a few moments as Hermione finished with the tea and brought two cups to the table. Ron took a sip from his, and Hermione was glad to see his facial features immediately relax as he swallowed the beverage. "Ginny's back in town, by the way," Ron said suddenly, as if he'd only just remembered.

"Oh, good! When did she get back?" Hermione asked.

"Earlier today. She won't be around much until Sunday though. She surprised us at lunch, but had to get back to the team by mid-afternoon. They're training in the same stadium as the English national team tonight and tomorrow." Hermione could detect a hint of jealousy on Ron's face as he finished his statement. At least the Harpies and the Cannons weren't sharing practice space; in that case Ron would likely drop everything to go and "support his sister."

"Well, I'm glad. For Harry, too."

"Yeah, I knew he was beginning to lose it the second he bought cookbooks. He's starting the lasagne now, by the way. Should be ready a little after five. Oh, and Fleur's pregnant."

Hermione nearly spit out her tea. "Fleur's pregnant?"

"Yeah, Ginny stopped by the Burrow this morning and Mum was all a twitter with baby stuff," Ron said, pulling a face.

"That's so exciting! Do you know when she's due?"

"Erm…spring sometime, I think? Keep it quiet, though. I think they're announcing it to everyone else later this weekend," Ron said, taking another large sip of his tea. "This is good, by the way."

"Are you not excited to be an uncle?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Course I am. Just a lot on my mind," Ron said vaguely.

"Of course, sorry," Hermione said, but Ron waved off her apologies. Nevertheless, she rose and moved to stand behind his chair, then began to lightly run her fingers through his hair. She'd learned a few months back that he was quite partial to these scalp massages, though she wasn't entirely sure why. But the desired result was achieved; he sighed and relaxed into her touch.

"Nobody was hurt," Ron said after awhile, breaking the silence that had fallen a few minutes prior. "Close, though. And the blokes we were after weren't in good shape either."

"At least you're all fine now, yeah?" Hermione offered optimistically.

"Yeah, just makes you think," Ron said cryptically. Hermione made a sympathetic noise and continued her ministrations. Several minutes later, she leaned down and kissed the top of his head. He reached around with one of his hands and tousled her hair affectionately. "You're the best," he said lazily.

"You're not half bad yourself," Hermione responded warmly, taking their teacups to the sink to be washed. When she turned back around, Ron's eyes were glued to her. She recognized this look—it was similar to the expression he adopted when he was studying the chess board in order to determine his next move. This particular look, however, was filled with the sort of tenderness that made her heart skip a beat. "What is it?" she asked, a bit breathlessly.

"Hermione," Ron began in a gravelly voice. He shook his head quickly as if to clear it, and then rose to stand in front of her. He took her hands in his and met her eyes. She was a little surprised by the intensity she found there. She could feel her cheeks getting darker as she stood there—the effect he had on her sometimes was ridiculous, if she did say so herself. In fact, if it weren't so clear he had something to say, she probably would have already jumped him. But instead, she met his gaze and waited, patiently yet expectantly.

"Hermione," he said again, breaking eye contact and looking down at their joined hands. "I—you know I don't like to do feelings and shite."

"Clearly not," she quipped. He shot her an exasperated look. "Sorry."

"What I mean to say is…I just want you to know that you—" he stopped and raised his eyes again, looking searchingly into hers. He seemed to gain the confidence he needed, because a second later he continued in what was nearly a whisper: "You're _it _for me, Hermione."

Hermione breathed in sharply. "Oh, Ron—"

"No, let me finish," he insisted. "I got to thinking today, after everything at work went to hell. Thinking about what I want, mostly. And I was just thinking—I want to buy you a ring someday. A proper diamond." He stopped and gulped. "If you want, that is—"

Hermione fought to regain her power of speech as she noticed that Ron was looking at her anxiously, the bits of insecurity he would likely never lose apparent in his eyes. "I—I'd want."

"Would you…" Ron trailed off, biting his lip thoughtfully.

"Would I?" she prompted.

Ron took a deep breath and nodded his head as if he were making a sort of decision. "Hermione Jean. Do you think—maybe—when I buy you this ring, and I ask you to wear it…I'm gonna ask you to wear it forever. And I was just wondering…will you? Someday, that is?"

"Yes. Yes, I think I would. Someday," Hermione said softly. She could feel tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "You—you're _it_ for me too, you know."

A slow grin spread across Ron's face. "So...you're saying you'll hypothetically say yes…someday?"

"I think that's exactly what I'm saying," Hermione replied, going up on her tiptoes in order to place her hands on Ron's shoulders. His moved automatically to her waist, keeping her in place as she tried to keep her balance while solving the problem of their height difference.

"Will you stay at mine tonight?" Ron murmured. "Harry might like to have some company for once, but I'm not prepared to sleep alone to ensure that happens."

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "But keep in mind that it's only sleeping when Harry's in the next room over."

Ron stuck out his lower lip in mock disappointment. "Not even snogging?"

"I'm about to snog you now, if you hadn't noticed," she smirked.

But he beat her to it—he kissed her full on the mouth, and they were very pleasantly occupied for an indefinite amount of time. The next time Hermione was fully aware of her thoughts, she was somehow sat atop the kitchen counter with Ron standing between her legs, hands on her thighs as he kissed her neck purposefully.

"We should probably—Harry's waiting," she pointed out, too caught up in Ron to bother stringing together a coherent sentence.

"Let him," Ron murmured against her shoulder. "He's got all night to feed us lasagne and play endless rounds of chess. It's not every day you say that you'd someday hypothetically agree to marrying me, after all." He then returned his lips to hers, which was an argument she simply couldn't refute.

Hermione was passionate about a great many things, but when she kissed him back, it was with a passion she reserved solely for these purposes. Throughout their whole conversation tonight—their whole relationship, actually—this was the first time Ron had said any version of the word "marry." That alone made the whole discussion seem very real. She knew Ron had been serious, of course. Ron Weasley was not the type to joke around about commitment, after all. But still, this was the first time they'd really acknowledged the path they were headed down, and to Hermione, that meant the world—and perhaps, it was worth it to be a little late to dinner.

* * *

A/N: Hello, fluffy. By the way – the title of this chapter is "The First Proposal." I just didn't want to put that at the top and ruin the surprise.

Apologies that this is up a little later than I originally expected. Life was being lifey, and I went through a bit of a rut at the beginning of the week during which I didn't feel much like writing/editing. I think it's safe to say this fic will see updates once a week at the very least – but I'm hoping to start updating once every 4-5 days again, like I was at the beginning.

I thank you once again for your continued support. It means a lot to know that people enjoy reading my silly head canons. :) Let me know what you thought if you've got a minute!


	9. Niece

A/N: Thank you as always, wonderful people, for reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, etc. :)

Disclaimer: Ron and Hermione are my all-time favorite characters, and I'm ever so thankful that J.K. Rowling created them.

* * *

"His First Niece"

2 May 2000

To say that Ron was having a tough day would be an understatement. Of course, the second of May hadn't been a particularly easy day to get through since the events of 1998, and today had been no exception. He'd been stuck on the evening shift at work, so he hadn't even been able to spend much time with his family. He had stopped by the Burrow at lunch to visit Fred's plot with his mum, which had been nice (though by no means pleasant). But soon after, he'd gone into work and had been busy nonstop since. Sometimes those who were still sympathetic to the former Death Eaters chose days like today to make a statement, and naturally the Auror department was on high alert to stop those plots before they happened. They did so without much trouble, of course—they were all damn good at what they did—but it made for a very long evening. What's worse, the bloke that was supposed to replace Ron on the night shift had been a solid forty-five minutes late, and as a result it was readily approaching midnight by the time he finally found himself walking into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Ron carelessly kicked off his shoes and threw his outer robe on top of them. He was expected to be in the office at nine the next morning and he therefore saw no use in putting things "in their right place," as Hermione would have said. He stood on the landing for a moment, trying to decide which he wanted more: food or a shower. Eventually, he settled for summoning himself a bag of crisps—healthy choices be damned—before making his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. He turned the water in the shower up as hot as it would go, eager to wash away the sweat and grime of the day.

After twenty very relaxing minutes, Ron's desire to sleep finally outweighed the comforting pressure of the scalding water against his tired muscles. He hadn't gone to his bedroom prior to showering and didn't want to put on his dirty robes again, so he simply wrapped his towel around his waist and began to trek slowly toward what promised to be a deep sleep. Upon entering his room, however, he was surprised to see that there was already someone lying in his bed—but luckily for him, it was just the person he wanted there.

Hermione was sleeping exactly in the center of his bed, spread out comfortably across the extra space and snoring lightly. Ron smiled at the sight of her; he hadn't been expecting to see her here tonight, but he had no qualms whatsoever about the situation. He hated the nights they slept apart. Noting that she was wearing pyjamas and therefore would probably appreciate it if he did as well, he put on the nearest clothing he could find—which just so happened to be a bright orange shirt and maroon checkered boxers—and attempted to crawl into bed beside the beautiful woman who had, for some reason he'd never really understand or believe, chosen to sleep there of her own accord. The only problem was that she'd somehow taken up virtually the entire bed with her own small form.

Ron prodded her in the side lightly, careful not to fully wake her. The result was immediate; she rolled over to the side just enough that he had room to slide in behind her—but now, his arse was hardly on the mattress. He pressed his hips forward in an attempt to make some space, but she simply ground back on him, which, while pleasant, was not the desired outcome.

"Hermione," he murmured finally, accepting that he'd have to wake her briefly if he expected to sleep comfortably. "Budge over."

Hermione just hummed in her sleep. Ron sighed before poking her once again. "Move."

"MmmrRon." She moved backward again, pushing him further toward the edge.

"Hermione, as much as I love your arse, now's not the time," Ron muttered, placing a hand on her waist and attempting to guide her further forward.

"Mmph." No movement. Enough was enough. Ron rolled on top of Hermione and, sliding down her torso, lifted her shirt and blew a raspberry on her stomach. "Mph…eugh, Ron! Off!" she shrieked, batting her hand uselessly in his direction.

"Don't hog the fucking bed," he shot back, but there was no real venom in his voice. He flopped back down on his side, now facing Hermione, who had thankfully shifted enough to allow them both to fit comfortably on the mattress.

"I didn't realize I fell asleep," she said groggily as she took his left hand in her right, threading their fingers together. "Didn't think I'd be waiting so long."

"I got off late," Ron explained, kissing her forehead as he settled under the sheets, "and I'm expected to be in at nine tomorrow."

"As am I. Best get to sleep, then," Hermione murmured, slowly letting go of his hand. Her eyes were already closed again, and she was snuggling comfortably into his body.

"Now that you've let me on the bed," he muttered, loosely wrapping a protective arm around her petite frame.

"Mmph." Ron rolled his eyes once before closing them. Always had to have the last word, she did.

But alas, their rest was short-lived. Ron felt as though he'd barely even been asleep when he heard something banging on his bedroom door.

"Waazzat?" he asked blearily, shifting over to glance at the clock—it was just gone one in the morning.

"Ron, Ron!" A familiar voice accompanied the knocks this time. So Harry was the banging noise. If he'd had more energy, Ron would have clobbered him.

"Are you going to answer him?" Hermione murmured sleepily into his chest.

"No," Ron replied stubbornly. "If it was really urgent he'd have come in here by now."

"Ron! Get up please, I don't want to come in and take my chances!" Harry's voice called from the other side of the door.

Hermione looked expectantly up at Ron, who simply burrowed further under the covers. Rolling her eyes, she got out of bed, ignoring Ron's groan of protest, and stomped over to the door, throwing it open impatiently. "This best be important, Harry," she said grumpily. Ron chuckled unkindly at the shocked and scared look that immediately crossed Harry's face.

"Oh, Hermione I didn't realize—well anyway, Fleur's at St. Mungo's. I got an owl from Ginny, she's just given birth and Mrs. Weasley wants us all there," Harry mumbled a bit uncomfortably.

"Now? It's one o'clock in the morning, for Merlin's sake! Does she not realize some of us are meant to work tomorrow?" Ron groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow in an attempt to hide from the lights, which Hermione had just inconveniently flicked on. Sure, he was excited to meet his very first niece or nephew, but wouldn't he or she still be there at a decent hour?

"Did she say why we all need to go?" Hermione asked.

"No, but I'm not about to cross her when she's already emotional," Harry replied. "If you two can get ready in about ten minutes, we'll Floo together?"

"Alright," Hermione said reluctantly. "Ron, can I borrow Pig to send an owl to the office? There's no chance I'll be any good at work tomorrow without sleep, and I'm about due for a personal day anyhow."

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely, turning to face Harry. "Reckon Robards would let me skive tomorrow, mate?"

"I dunno. I'm on evening so I'm not going to try," Harry said, leaning against the doorframe. "But it's your family so you've got a better shot."

Ron sighed heavily. "Might as well. Hermione, don't send Pig til I've written an excuse too."

"It's not an excuse, Ron, it's your family," Hermione scolded from the desk in the corner of the room.

"Right," Ron said, getting out of bed reluctantly and glancing at Harry again. "Well, unless you're going to stand here and watch us change…"

"I'll meet you by the fireplace in ten minutes," Harry said quickly before leaving the room.

Stumbling around the room, still drowsy with the sleep he wished he'd got, Ron located an acceptable pair of trousers and one of his newer Weasley jumpers. "Dunno why she needs us all there," he grumbled. "I s'pose it's fine if I get the day off work, but I'd almost rather sleep, y'know?"

Hermione sighed heavily, folding the parchment she was writing on. "It's her first grandchild. She probably just wants everyone together. To be honest, I'm not sure if crowding Fleur is the best thing, but I think it best not to argue. Write your letter, Pig's waiting. Oh, and do you mind if I borrow a jumper? I only brought work clothes with me and I don't think there's time to pop back to mine."

"Go ahead," Ron said automatically, crossing over to the desk and scribbling a note to his supervisors. Truly, he knew there would be no problem in taking a personal day for a family situation, especially since he rarely took extra days off, but he still didn't particularly want to do it. As much as he complained about the detriments of his job, he did like what he was doing and wanted to continue to impress his superiors. It'd been almost a year since he'd finished his training, and as such there was the opportunity for a pay raise at the end of June. Though he hadn't said it aloud, he was hoping to be bumped up a bit so that he could start saving for the future—for Hermione.

"Ready?" Hermione asked from over his shoulder a moment later.

"Yeah." Ron handed the two folded notes to Pig, who had been circling his head as he wrote. "Make sure these get to the right places," Ron told the owl sternly. He earned a hoot in response, and he opened the bedroom window to allow Pig to fly away.

Ron took Hermione's hand and began to lead them out of the room. "We best be back in that bed within twelve hours," he muttered, grabbing his Deluminator off the bedside table and using it to shut off the lights behind them.

"Less, I'd hope," Hermione replied as they began to make their way downstairs. "Harry made it sound as though the baby's already been born. We're just going to meet him or her."

"You're not that excited either, are you? So don't you nag me about being grumpy," Ron said.

"It's not _my_ brother's first child. You ought to be happier than me," Hermione argued.

"Shut it, you know it's as good as," Ron replied. Hermione had no argument to the contrary.

Harry was already waiting for them in the sitting room, and they set out right away. The trip to St. Mungo's was quick, and they were immediately escorted to the maternity ward upon their arrival. Fleur had a private room at the end of the corridor, and there was a small gaggle of redheads waiting on the odd arrangement of furniture outside of it. Ron's mum spotted them first and greeted each of them with a brief but tight hug.

"Oh good, you've made it! And you picked up Hermione on the way, very good," Mum said excitedly. Ron could feel his ears going red. Everyone present knew on some level that he and Hermione had likely come from the same place—if George's smirk didn't give it away, then Ginny's eye roll would have. However, if Mum wanted to pretend like it wasn't happening, Ron supposed that was her own prerogative.

"The baby was born just before midnight; it's a girl, by the way. We'll be allowed to visit in small groups in just a couple of moments, I'm told. The child seems to be healthy, but they're just running all the necessary tests before they're allowing visitors. Bill came out awhile ago and said Fleur's doing well; her family's on their way from France. They got a bit hung up at the International Portkey office, but no matter, they'll be here by dawn at the latest," Mum continued while Ron greeted his dad, George, and Ginny.

"Oi, look what the cat dragged in," came a familiar voice as Charlie rounded a corner and approached the group with a smile. "Tea for you, Mum," he added, handing her a cup from the shop downstairs before giving Ron a one-armed hug. "Good to see you. And your sidekicks," he added with a mock-salute to Harry and Hermione.

"Yeah, you too. When did you get here?" Ron asked.

"About an hour ago. Bill owled earlier today asking me to come for the birth. Didn't realize it'd be so soon, but I made it. They wanted to name me godfather," Charlie replied, puffing out his chest proudly. "Now we're just missing Percy."

"It shouldn't be long," Ginny said, shifting as Harry made to sit down next to her on the small, uncomfortable-looking sofa. "I owled him the same time as I did you lot, and he lives closer."

"He probably didn't have some scrawny git banging on his door like the world was ending," Ron muttered, taking a seat in the only remaining armchair and beckoning for Hermione to join him. She followed, but sat on the arm rest after glancing nervously at Mum.

"All the same, I'd expect him to be here soon," Ginny said, frowning slightly. Then, as if he'd been called, a wild-eyed Percy materialized in the hallway, strolling toward them quickly. What was strange to Ron was not necessarily his sudden appearance, but rather the fact that he seemed to have come from a room further down the corridor rather than from the lift around the corner, which the rest of them had used to reach the maternity ward.

"Well, what've I missed?" Percy asked breathlessly once he'd reached the group, removing his glasses to wipe them hastily on his shirt.

"They had a baby girl a couple of hours ago, and we'll be allowed to go in shortly," Dad said briskly. Unlike Mum, in times of excitement, he had a way of being very straightforward.

"Where've you been?" Ron asked Percy suspiciously. There was no reason he should have come from down the hall, or that he would be out of breath.

"I was just—came from home," Percy stammered, a bit of a dazed expression on his face. Ron raised an eyebrow, but decided not to press it further.

The group didn't talk much, everyone too tired to really converse. Mum, however, was pacing back and forth excitedly. Dad would occasionally call to her to sit down, but she declined every time. After what seemed like a small eternity, a healer exited Fleur's room and told them they could begin visiting, but no more than two or three at a time. Naturally, Mum was the first to dash in, followed closely by Dad and Charlie.

Almost immediately after his parents left, Hermione slid into Ron's lap and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled contentedly and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring George's lazy catcalls. "Now Mum's gone you'll pretend you like me?" he muttered teasingly into Hermione's hair, which was wilder than normal due to their short-notice wake up call.

"Shut up," Hermione whispered back. Ron smirked; she was trying to look stern, but her eyes were already fluttering shut. She was cute when she was tired—not that he'd ever say that out loud.

As the group sat in silence, Ron's mind began to wander. The baby—his niece—had been born just before midnight, Mum said. That meant her birthday would be the second of May. Ron felt a small pang of sympathy for the child then. Her birthday would always be the same day Fred had died, the same day the war had ended. There would be memorials and celebrations on and around that day for years to come. It wasn't necessarily the worst thing, Ron decided, just kind of strange.

The second of May was also his and Hermione's anniversary, Ron thought suddenly. Or was it really? It was the first time they'd kissed, but who's to say when they'd really become a them? He supposed since he'd been pretty well in love with her since he was about fifteen, probably earlier, having an anniversary seemed kind of silly. Still, it was significant in his mind that two whole years had passed since he'd begun referring to Hermione as his girlfriend. There had been a period of time that first summer during which he'd made a point of introducing her to everyone they met, even those that had already casually made their acquaintance, just so he could say, "This is my girlfriend, Hermione." He'd really been quite obnoxious, looking back on it. But then again, he thought, he still did that occasionally.

The next thirty minutes passed in near silence. Ron drifted in and out of consciousness a few times, and he was sure the others must have too. Hermione, for her part, was fast asleep within minutes. It was past two-thirty and quickly becoming three when his parents and Charlie finally returned to the corridor, and George, Percy, and Ginny disappeared into the room.

"How long has Hermione been asleep?" Dad asked Ron quietly as he sat on the sofa next to a teary-eyed Mum.

"Since right after you lot went in," Ron replied, speaking just loud enough so that she would not wake. "You alright, Mum?"

"Oh yes, dear. She's so beautiful—oh, just wait til you see. Gorgeous head of hair coming in already, a sort of strawberry blonde, I think. The spitting image of her mother, but you can tell it's a Weasley nose. They've named her Victoire—that means 'victory,' which is quite fitting if I do say so. Oh Arthur, can you believe it? We're grandparents," Mum said, speaking very fast with a wide smile on her face.

"Indeed we are, Molly," Dad said, chuckling lightly at his wife's demeanor. "You were hardly this excited for our own children, dear."

"Well, it's much easier when you're not the one giving birth," Mum replied indignantly.

"I'm glad that Teddy will finally have someone around his age to play with," Harry commented helpfully, sensing the need for a subject change.

"Oh yes, of course! And I expect they'll have more cousins to play with soon enough," Mum continued, casting a meaningful glance in Ron's direction. It was all he could do not to glare back—he loved Hermione, sure, but they weren't planning to have children anytime in the near future.

"Well, I'd bring home my babies, but they have a tendency to breathe fire," Charlie quipped. Dad, Harry, and Ron laughed, but Mum decided to take the opportunity to ask Charlie a barrage of questions, ranging from "do you intend to do such a dangerous job forever" to "aren't there any nice _girls_ working on the range?"

A short time later, George and Ginny came back to the waiting area. Percy followed them closely, but walked straight past the rest of the family muttering something about a bathroom. Ron nudged Hermione a couple of times to no avail. "Wake up love, we've got to meet the baby," he murmured into her ear. When she responded only by shifting a little in his arms, he finally resorted to poking her in the side. Well, more like jabbing.

"Ouch," she protested on the third jab, grabbing his finger and shaking it in her hand in what he supposed was meant to be reprimand.

"Up," he insisted, and at last, with a groan, she obliged. "Waking you up when you're tired is a pain in the arse," Ron muttered to her as he stumbled to his feet—though she was light, his right leg had fallen asleep under her weight. She responded to his teasing by jabbing him hard in the stomach. He scowled at her, but she just smiled innocently.

"If you're quite done," Harry grumbled, leading the three of them toward the door and pushing it open.

"'Ello, dears," Fleur greeted them warmly as they came through the doorway. Bill was sitting on the edge of her bed, smiling at the bundle that lay in her arms. "Victoire 'as been sleeping, so we shall talk in hushed voices, if you don't mind."

"Victoire is such a lovely name," Hermione said softly, taking Ron's hand in her own as they approached the bed. Ron, for his part, felt almost dumbfounded. It was as though he hadn't truly realized that Bill and Fleur were having a baby, a real living baby, until this very moment.

"A lovely name for a beautiful girl," Bill commented, taking his daughter from Fleur and holding her for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to see.

"Oh, she's beautiful," Hermione whispered. Harry and Ron murmured their agreement. What Mum had said was true; the little girl looked a lot like Fleur. The tufts of hair atop her head were light, and her face was heart-shaped. But she had a long nose extremely reminiscent of Bill's, and if Ron didn't know any better he'd have thought there might be a small smattering of freckles on Victoire's tiny nose.

"You can all hold her, if you like," Bill said quietly, "but not for too long if you don't mind. It's been a long night."

"Sorry if everyone's been in your space," Ron said suddenly, thinking of what Hermione had said earlier about crowding the new parents. "Mum wanted us all here, and—"

"Nah, it's nice having the family here. It's just a bit much after awhile," Bill said casually, carefully handing Victoire off to an eager Hermione, whose breath caught as she held the infant in her arms.

"You're just gorgeous, aren't you? Just like your mummy," she cooed, a wide smile spreading across her face. Ron placed an affectionate hand on Hermione's shoulder. Due to their height difference, he had no problem admiring Victoire from over the top of Hermione's head. Harry took a seat on the chair beside Fleur's bed, watching his friends with a strangely thoughtful expression on his face.

"Do you want to hold her, Ron?" Hermione asked softly a few moments later, turning slightly to look at him. He held her gaze for a second, as he was wont to do during those moments in which he was struck by just how lucky he was, before nodding. He was a little nervous, but he'd held Teddy enough times that he knew he could do it. He carefully took hold of the sleeping child, shifting her so that she was well-supported in his arms.

"Hey Victoire," he murmured. "I'm your Uncle Ron. Oh, blimey, I'm an uncle."

Hermione laughed lightly from beside him. "And there's your Aunt Hermione," Ron added softly. "I s'pose she's not your proper aunt yet, but that doesn't matter. We're still gonna spoil you rotten."

"Oh, will we?" Hermione asked warmly, leaning her head against his arm.

"It'll be sweets from Ron and books from Hermione, I'd wager," Bill laughed from his place on the bed.

"My little girl is so lucky, to 'ave so many aunts and uncles to smother her with love," Fleur remarked, resting her head on Bill's shoulder.

"Her parents aren't bad either," Ron replied, grinning at his brother and his sister-in-law. "Wanna meet Uncle Harry, Victoire?" He carefully passed her tiny form to Harry, who received her with ease. After several more minutes of fawning over the baby and visiting, Harry handed Victoire back to her mother and the three said their goodbyes, at last allowing the new parents some time to themselves.

As they stepped back into the corridor, Ron checked his watch and noticed that it was readily approaching four o'clock. All in all, he couldn't deny he was glad that he'd met his niece, but now it was _really_ time to go to bed. Or perhaps, he thought as he glanced sideways at Hermione, he could spare an hour or so before he slept…

"Oh good, we've all been through then! That will give them a couple of hours to rest before the Delacours get here," Mum said. "Maybe we could all go get a spot of breakfast, I've been told the dining area upstairs is open all night—"

"Mum, I think it's time some of us went home," George cut in firmly. "My brain's hardly working—I don't think I've made more than two jokes all night."

"Yeah, Mrs. Weasley, I have to be to work at two and I was hoping to get some sleep before then," Harry added, far more apologetically than George had.

"Maybe we could all get a couple hours sleep and then come back?" Ron asked, choosing his words carefully.

"Now see here, you lot," Mum began angrily. "That's your brother's daughter that's just been born—"

"And we've all seen her, and she's gorgeous. But they don't need us right now," Ginny pleaded. "They just need some rest, as do we all."

"Molly, maybe we let the kids go get some sleep. We can all meet back here in a few hours for lunch, and then spend the afternoon together," Dad suggested soothingly.

Mum made a great show of sighing, but it was clear she'd been persuaded. "Well, I suppose…"

"Mother? Father?" The group collectively turned around to see Percy, just returned from what must have been a very long "bathroom" break. On his arm was a tall woman with long, dark-blonde hair. She was wearing a Healer's uniform and a slightly nervous expression, though her posture exhibited nothing but confidence. Percy coughed importantly. "This is Audrey. We've been seeing each other for a year, and earlier tonight she agreed to marry me."

There was stunned silence for a moment. Then, all hell broke loose.

"As much as I want to know what the hell just happened, let's save our congratulations for lunch, shall we?" Ron muttered into Hermione's ear during the commotion. She nodded in agreement, taking his hand and marching them straight past the mess of shouting, crying, hugging, and general chaos that was his family without so much as a word. "I really love you," he told her conversationally, releasing a sigh of relief as they rounded the corner and stepped into the lift.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied, reaching up to tug on the collar of his jumper. He took the hint and bent over a bit so that she could kiss him—which she most certainly did. Ron wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to the fact that sometimes, she liked to kiss him for no particular reason at all, but he certainly never wanted to. "Time for bed," she said simply when they separated a few seconds later. Ron smiled in agreement and, each with one arm around the other, they exited the lift and then the hospital, so that they could (eventually) catch up on some sleep.

* * *

A/N: This turned out to be a bit of a filler chapter, I think, but I enjoyed writing it nonetheless. The last few chapters have been pretty significant for Ron and Hermione, and the next couple will see a lot of action as well. As for Percy's surprise announcement—I think Audrey brings some spontaneity to his life, thus their seemingly sudden engagement. But it's not as out of the blue as it seems—there will be some more explanation of their relationship in the next chapter. :)

Again, a big 'thank you' to everyone that is reading this fic. I'm still a bit dumbfounded that as of the time of now, 82 people get an e-mail every time I post a new chapter. Please know that I greatly appreciate the support, more than I can properly express in an author's note or a review response. Nutella and hugs for everyone!


	10. Wedding

A/N: Thanks as always for your continued support. We're only about halfway through the story so it's crazy to already have such a great response! On another note, I believe a bit of an apology is necessary. This chapter is being uploaded quite a bit later than I had originally planned—mostly due to writer's block, as well as some other personal things I won't bore you with. However, the next chapter is one of those that have been in the works since last summer, so it should (hopefully) come much more quickly.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I don't want to. I just want to continue to sob about its perfection.

* * *

"The First Wedding after the War"

29 July 2000

Growing up, the Weasley siblings had often done their very best to drive their mother absolutely mad. Sometimes they viewed it as a sort of challenge—who could do the most ridiculously hard-headed thing and live to tell the tale? Now, nearly a decade since they'd all gone off to Hogwarts and jobs and real life, it seemed there was at last a winner. But who would have ever guessed the winner would be Percy?

When Percy had first announced his engagement, Mum had nearly exploded. The knowledge that one of her sons intended to marry a woman she'd never met had clearly bothered her, and it certainly hadn't helped that the announcement had come at four in the morning following the birth of Bill and Fleur's first daughter. As if this weren't enough, several days later Percy had informed them that they wanted to be married that summer, and therefore the wedding would be held the last weekend of July. This had predictably sent the Weasley matriarch into a tailspin of epic proportions. Unwilling to hear any venue suggestions other than the Burrow, Mum had taken it upon herself to ensure that no child of hers would be wed in anything less than ideal fashion, regardless of how hastily planned it was—or of her personal opinion of the bride-to-be.

Most of the Weasleys had taken quite well to Audrey. She was, after all, just enough like Percy that they were compatible but just different enough from him to ensure that she was likeable. (Not to say they didn't like Percy, of course—but two of him would have been a bit much.) She was equally as intelligent as he was, and they both possessed a considerable amount of ambition. But where he was arrogant and pompous, she was confident and poised. Where he tended to be cautious and deliberate, she was spontaneous and relaxed.

They'd met in a pub a year prior, which was perhaps the beginning of Mum's misgivings. After a night of what Percy had described as "responsible consumption and delightful conversation," they'd begun seeing each other. Percy had neglected to inform his family of this development, which was another cause of Mum's uneasiness, but their relationship had progressed quickly. As Percy had told them, they'd known "fairly early on that we would make a good match." Finally, on the night of Victoire's birth, Percy had been visiting Audrey during a break in her shift when, in his words, he'd "felt the time was right" and asked her to marry him.

Though this was the official version of events, everyone knew it wasn't true. Audrey had confided in Fleur, and George had overheard Fleur tell Bill, and he'd naturally gone straight to Ron, who'd told Harry and Hermione so then _of course_ Ginny had found out, and it was only a matter of time before Charlie was told and nobody was good enough at hiding secrets to keep Mum and Dad in the dark. Because of this, everybody in the Weasley family knew that Percy and Audrey's first meeting in the pub had taken place on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, and Percy had been completely sloshed. According to Audrey, one thing had led to another and she'd ended up in his flat that night—nobody wanted to know what had happened there, but one could only assume. However, instead of going their separate ways in the morning, Audrey had made him breakfast and informed him that she was _not_ that kind of girl, and that she would very much like to go on a proper date. He'd balked, but she was persistent. Eventually, they'd become a couple.

They'd fallen in love quickly. No one was quite sure why, but it was plain in the way they looked at each other. They did complement one another—she was full of surprises, but he kept a level head. They both liked to be in control, but they didn't mind relinquishing a bit of power when it came to each other. Not entirely, though: as Percy had drunkenly admitted to his brothers on his stag night the weekend before the wedding, the main reason he'd asked her to marry him the night of Victoire's birth was because she'd been dropping hints like mad and he didn't want her to beat him to it.

"Sh'saw no reason to wait anymore," he'd slurred after confessing this. "I di'nt wanna either, cos she's brilllll—brilliant. Only bird I ever met like 'er—knows what she wants and knows how to get it, and if I'm lucky nuff to be what she wants…" he'd trailed off, waving his glass about as if trying desperately to make a point that no one else really got. Bill, Charlie, George, Ron, and Harry reacted with an assortment of guffaws and grimaces, depending on how drunk they were.

It was clear to most everyone that the "real story" was probably the reason why Mum didn't particularly like her soon to be daughter-in-law. "Your mum thinks Audrey's pushy," Hermione had confessed to Ron as they lay in his bed cuddling one night (though if Ron were asked, he would never admit that he was a cuddler). "She thinks she seduced her poor baby boy and trapped him, or something like that."

"It's Percy. He'd never be part of something unless he wanted to be, and he's only made about one bad decision in his life. Granted it was a pretty bad decision, but all in all I think he does alright for himself," Ron pointed out, lazily tracing patterns on his girlfriend's back as he spoke.

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "It might be a bit fast, but I think they're quite suited for each other, really. They're both a tad mental. And Audrey—she's a bit…"

"Aggressive?" Ron offered.

"I was going to say assertive," Hermione said politely, "but in my opinion, that's a good quality in moderation."

"Yeah, but of course you think so. You're a bit assertive yourself," Ron teased, tugging on one of her wild curls.

"I'll show you assertive," she shot back, sitting up from her spot on the left side of the bed and moving to straddle him.

"Please do," Ron groaned appreciatively. Then she kissed him, and the matter of his brother's fiancée was not discussed any more that night.

At any rate, Mum had managed to put aside many of her personal reservations and had insisted upon heading up much of the wedding planning. Audrey had a list of ideas that helped the process along, and the family had somehow managed to throw together a fairly impressive event in just less than three months. When the morning of the nuptials finally came, Ron couldn't help but be reminded of Bill and Fleur's wedding—the venue looked almost identical, and Mum was once again predictably running about ordering various family members to do things. Though the Tylers, Audrey's parents, had arrived the night before, Mum would not hear of them doing anything even mildly strenuous.

It was only now, just over an hour before the ceremony, that everyone was at last allowed to catch a breath. The women had retreated to Ginny's room to get ready and to help Audrey do the same, while the men had gone to Percy's room to make aimless small talk, as their getting ready process had taken them all of about ten minutes.

"Never thought you'd be the next one married, Perce," George said conversationally. "I thought Ronnie here'd beat you to it."

"Shut up," Ron muttered embarrassedly, feeling the heat radiating off his cheeks.

"Ronald's hardly twenty," Percy said indignantly. "I think, given my age and status, I'm far more prepared for such a significant change in my situation."

"I don't know, boys. Your mum and I were married just out of school. It's more a matter of knowing the right person than of being the right age," Dad remarked thoughtfully.

Ron remained silent. He knew he had the right person, but he had no desire of discussing this marriage business at length with his family. He barely talked even about it with Hermione, for Merlin's sake.

"Well, you lot ought to hold off on this marriage and babies stuff for awhile. I can't keep taking off work every other month," Charlie joked.

"Don't worry, I'll still be awhile," George replied. "Why tie myself down when I'm in my prime?"

"Interesting," Bill said, raising an eyebrow. "I have it on good authority that you've invited Angelina Johnson today."

Now it was George's turn to be embarrassed. "Well, can't always go stag at these things…" he stammered uncomfortably.

"Yeah, s'pose Charlie's the only one without a date," Bill said suddenly, turning to his closest brother.

"And that's just the way I like it too," Charlie quipped. "I can scope the field this way. And if that fails, I'll be keeping an eye on Potter and our darling sister."

Harry coughed uncomfortably.

"Best not," Ron said, not about to miss an opportunity to rag on his best mate. "You're bound to see something disgusting and if you try to hex him, Ginny'll hex you first."

"Which is why I think we're all content to let them be," Dad said, giving each of his sons a stern look. "Should he step out of line Ginny will have his head quicker and more efficiently than the rest of us would."

"Indeed," Percy agreed, clearly sick of the chatter. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to step out to the loo."

"Just don't go downstairs," Bill advised. "Mum will go mental if you see Audrey before she's 'properly ready.'"

"Mum's already gone a bit mental," George said as Percy hastily exited the room. "Sorry, Dad," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm not disagreeing," Dad said carefully, shifting his eyes about as if he half-expected his wife to pop up out of a corner and scold him, "but you lot know things like this mean quite a bit to her, so please just indulge her. It's a big day for your brother and Audrey as well."

The boys nodded once, and then the conversation fell into the more comfortable topic of Quidditch. It wasn't until ten minutes later that Bill commented on Percy's continued absence. After much deliberating over who would be the one to retrieve him, Ron volunteered. Though fetching Percy wasn't high on his list of preferred tasks, he was sure it wouldn't be long before George started to take the mickey out of him again, and he didn't particularly feel in the mood to wait around for that to happen.

The only problem was that Percy was not actually in the loo. Breathing a heavy sigh, Ron began to make his way downstairs. Bill was right, after all; Percy wasn't meant to leave his room until the ceremony was just about to begin, and they had a solid thirty minutes yet to wait. As he hurried downstairs to find his brother, he bumped into someone else.

"Oh! Sorry, Hermione," Ron said, holding out a hand and gripping her arm to steady her. "You look really nice," he added with a smile, rubbing the arm in question affectionately. She really did—she was wearing a pretty yellow dress, and she'd used a bit of potion on her hair to tame it. Rather than appearing to have a mind of its own, it had deflated into what could only be described as "manageably bushy." Ron liked it just fine either way, but when she used the potion it was easier to see her face, which was really the most attractive part of her in Ron's opinion—at least, out of the parts that he could mention in polite conversation.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, blushing. "You do too."

Ron snorted derisively, looking down at his plain black clothes. "Nah, nothing special. But thanks."

Hermione moved her arm slightly so that their hands were intertwined. "Stop it. You look handsome."

"Thanks," Ron repeated, smiling gratefully and squeezing her hand. "So what brings you to this fine stairwell?"

Hermione glanced around quickly before saying in a hushed voice, "I'm sort of searching for the bride. Probably just in the loo, at least I hope. How about you?"

"Looking for the groom," Ron said slowly, worry beginning to creep into his thoughts. "And I've just checked the loo. Empty."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Where do you suppose they are, then? The wedding's meant to start in half an hour!"

"Let's check downstairs," Ron replied, leading her toward the ground floor hand-in-hand. However, their search was once again ineffective, and both Ron and Hermione were now seriously concerned.

"I do hope they're alright," Hermione fretted, lifting cushions off the sofa as if one of them might be hiding underneath.

"Well, let's think. Where would you go if you were about to get married?" Ron asked, glancing out the windows curiously.

"I wouldn't go anywhere," Hermione answered automatically. "Why would I want to miss my own wedding?"

"Maybe they're nervous?" Ron offered. "What would you do then?"

Hermione bit her lip and thought for a moment before answering, "I'd probably want to see the person I was marrying, to remind myself of why I was doing it in the first place."

Ron grinned. "Brilliant, so you think they're together?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Even if they are, we still don't know _where_."

"If they're together then they aren't trying to avoid the wedding, don't you think? No use going out searching," Ron pointed out.

"No. Even if they are avoiding it, there's nothing we can do anyhow," Hermione replied, sitting down on the sofa and patting the space next to her. She rested her head on Ron's shoulder after he joined her, and he wrapped an arm around her, moving his hand slowly up and down her side.

"Do you think they're avoiding it?" he asked her casually.

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "They did jump into this whole thing a bit, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Ron said thoughtfully. "I dunno if the timing really matters though."

"What do you mean?" she asked, moving her arms to embrace his torso.

"Well, take you and me for example. I don't think it matters if I marry you tomorrow or five years from now. We're gonna be together either way, you know?" Ron said. He was thankful she couldn't see his face—talking about things like this still made him blush. The fact that he even had the courage to say it in the first place was a marked change from where he'd been even just a year ago.

"You best not make me wait five years for that hypothetical proposal," Hermione mumbled. The tone of her voice told him that she was just a little self-conscious as well, which comforted him immensely. They were almost always completely open with each other, but the little bit of vulnerability they both possessed reminded him of just how much this meant to both of them.

"I won't," Ron said simply, unwilling to elaborate further.

Hermione was quiet for a moment before replying: "It's different with us, though. We've been friends for the better part of ten years. Percy and Audrey met a year ago."

"You sound like Mum," Ron said teasingly.

"Well don't misunderstand me, I think they're good together," Hermione said hurriedly. "I can just understand if they're a bit apprehensive, that's all."

"Well, they've got about twenty minutes to get unapprehensive," Ron replied, glancing at his watch.

"Inapprehensive," Hermione corrected automatically.

"Same thing," he grumbled, but he continued to rub her side tenderly.

They sat in each other's embrace for several minutes longer before they heard the sound of the kitchen door opening. After reluctantly getting up, they were relieved to discover that it was Percy and Audrey coming into the Burrow. Even better, they were holding hands and looked as though they still intended on being married. It was possible that Audrey's elegant white dress was not quite as pristine as it had been when she'd first put it on, but she didn't seem to mind. She still looked radiant, although Ron was fairly certain that had more to do with the happy smile on her face than with anything else.

"Oh, hello Ron—Hermione," Percy said awkwardly. "We just went for a bit of a stroll. The notion of not seeing each other before the wedding is archaic, after all, but we didn't want to aggravate Mother…"

"Hush, Perce," Audrey said, smiling goofily at him. "I'm sure this lot doesn't mind."

"Not particularly, but the ceremony is meant to start soon so you'd best get back upstairs," Hermione said.

"Who takes a stroll before their wedding?" Ron wondered aloud.

"We wanted to see each other and have a moment before everyone else was watching," Audrey said confidently, still exchanging what Ron considered to be rather disgusting looks with Percy. The look on Hermione's face plainly said that she thought all this was charming, but Ron couldn't handle it anymore. With a meaningful cough, he quickly ushered them all back upstairs, making sure to pass Ginny's room quietly as Hermione and Audrey reentered it.

Upon arriving in Percy's room, they stammered out some terrible excuse for their prolonged absence, but none of their brothers seemed to care. In fact, they seemed to have brought out the firewhiskey a bit early, and were quite preoccupied with toasting to each other's long lives and general happiness. Only Dad was without a glass, but he seemed content to watch the proceedings with amusement and to ensure that no one indulged _too _much.

"Mum's gonna kill them," Ron muttered under his breath as George proposed a toast to Harry's continued celibacy.

"Well, Ronald, I'm afraid I won't condone any homicide at _my_ wedding, so she'll have to wait," Percy said, taking a glass and pouring a very small amount of alcohol for himself.

"What's got into you, Perce?" Ron asked incredulously, though he too took a glass.

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know what it's like," Percy said, handing the bottle of firewhiskey to Ron.

"How do you mean?" Ron asked, also taking a small amount of the substance. He didn't want to give Hermione a reason to complain when he kissed her, after all.

"Hermione's made you different—in a good way," Percy explained. "Cheers," he added, raising his glass. Ron mimicked his action and they downed their shots together.

"She keeps me in line, that's what she does," Ron said after he swallowed his drink. "And she stops me from doing bone-headed things."

"Yeah, and Audrey keeps me from being an annoying arse," Percy said emphatically, handing his glass to Ron. "Don't let me have anything else to drink. I'm told I'm a mess when I'm inebriated."

"I'm the one that told you that," Ron muttered, placing both of their glasses on the bedside table.

"My point is that our women make us better people, and that's why they're our women," Percy said, a look of disgust crossing his face as George poured himself another shot. "Now, I need to get married before this lot gets any more intoxicated than they already are."

Ron was thoroughly astonished, as this may have been the most heartwarming thing he'd ever heard Percy say, but still had the clarity of mind to hear his mother's frantic footsteps climbing the stairs. Before any of them had much of a chance to think, they'd hid the alcohol, put on their most innocent expressions, and followed their excitable mum downstairs and to the garden. Those that weren't in the wedding party went to find their seats—Ron was pleased to see Hermione had saved him one—and the proceedings began without a hitch.

The ceremony itself was short and to the point, thankfully. Hermione kept her hand in Ron's the whole time and for whatever reason saw fit to make noises that sounded vaguely like "oo" and "aww" during moments that were particularly adorable. Ron, on the other hand, very nearly shielded his eyes at the sight of his older brother actually _kissing_ a girl. Mum seemed to have got over her reservations and was crying openly, while Dad sat at her side with an arm around her. Ron wasn't sure, but his dad may have been dabbing at his own eyes as well.

Soon enough, though, the scenery around them changed and the tent was at once set up for the reception. Ron immediately procured butterbeers for himself and Hermione, earning himself one of her pretty smiles, and they found a table with Harry and Ginny. A small meal was already laid out at each place, and Ron was eager to dig in.

"For all Mum's worrying, that went off smoothly," Ginny remarked as they sat down.

"And she seems to be warming up to Audrey a bit," Ron noted, taking a swig of his drink before tucking in to the chicken that had been provided for dinner.

"I don't know if she ever particularly disliked her," Hermione said. "She just had to get used to her is all. Your mum didn't like me for awhile, back when we were younger."

"That's cos she thought you and I were involved, and none of us liked that idea," Harry said with a grimace.

"Mum always wanted you to be a Weasley, I suppose," Ginny teased Hermione, with a pointed glance in Ron's direction. He blushed and glared at her in return.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Anyway, snack table looks good."

"Yeah, just don't take any til the wedding party has or Mum'll throw a fit. Good they provided snacks though; the chicken didn't last long," Ron said as he finished the last few bites of his meal.

"Oh, the Delacours have come with Victoire!" Ginny said suddenly, pointing across the room toward where Bill sat with his wife, daughter, and in-laws. Fleur's parents had offered to watch Victoire during the ceremony, as neither Bill nor Fleur were keen on causing a distraction. Ron smiled at the sight of his eldest brother's new family.

"She's growing so quickly already, isn't she?" Hermione remarked. "Before we know it she'll be going off to Hogwarts."

"Oh, stop it," Ron said. "We've barely left the place ourselves."

"It's been three years since either of us went to school there," Harry pointed out reasonably.

"Look, Percy and Audrey are about to dance!" Hermione said suddenly, interrupting whatever Ginny had been about to say.

"I'd rather not," Ron mumbled. Hermione smacked him smartly on the thigh. "What was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"Your brother's in love," she said in a scandalized tone.

"Doesn't mean I need visual proof," Ron shot back, but he turned to watch the newlyweds nevertheless. The truth was no matter how much he took the piss, somewhere deep down he was very happy for Percy—in the same way he was happy that Ginny had Harry.

"The song they've chosen is a bit cheesy," Ginny remarked in a low tone. Harry and Ron agreed, having to stifle their laughter as the live singer Audrey had insisted upon belted out: "you enchanted me with more than just your wand…" Hermione didn't laugh along, but the slight smile on her lips told Ron all he needed to know.

"I'd ask you to dance, but there's no way I can take this song seriously," he muttered into her ear as other couples began to make their way to the floor.

"It wouldn't be my first choice, but perhaps it means something to them," Hermione said diplomatically.

"S'pose. Good on Audrey choosing her own singer though; this is still loads better than old Celestina," Ron said, taking another sip of his butterbeer. This was still his favorite drink, he mused; it may not have been as potent (or as much fun) as firewhiskey, but it sure went down a lot smoother. Plus, Hermione preferred this. She'd never outright complain when he had hard liquor, but he could tell that she wasn't particularly keen on it. As a courtesy to her, he tended to save firewhiskey for only very special occasions—or nights out with the blokes, of course.

"I honestly prefer muggle music," Hermione replied. "The analogies in wizarding music are a bit much sometimes."

"When do you listen to muggle music?" Ron asked, frowning as he tried to recall why he hadn't known this detail about her life.

"On occasion," Hermione replied vaguely as the song changed. "This one's more upbeat."

"Let's try it, then," Ron said, taking her hand and leading her out onto the floor, ignoring whatever look he knew Ginny must be giving him. He could still see George making kissy faces in their direction across the room, which was quite enough. One might've thought the joke would get less funny several years down the line, but perhaps this was just a result of the alcohol the rest of his siblings were consuming.

Their dancing went much more smoothly than it had the last time they'd attempted it. Ron led with a bit more confidence now, partially because he was no longer scared Hermione would run away if he held her closer than arm's length. He still stepped on her toes every now and again, but she didn't seem to mind. He even twirled her around a couple of times, earning himself a smirk from several of his family members.

Eventually, the music slowed again. "Do you want to keep going?" Hermione asked softly, but Ron had already begun to pull her closer.

"We can risk it," he joked, resting his hands on her waist. She placed hers on his shoulders and leaned her head against his chest, and they began to slowly revolve in a circle. Ron wasn't sure why this counted as dancing, but he didn't particularly have any complaints. This was far easier than dancing to fast music, after all. If he ignored the words of the song, the whole thing was actually quite pleasant.

They didn't speak while they were dancing. They hadn't the last time they'd danced like this either, but now the silence was comfortable rather than charged. What's more, Ron didn't feel as though he was stealing moments with her anymore. He spent nearly every one of his spare moments with her now, and he didn't even need a reason to do so. At once, Ron was struck with the realization of how very lucky he was. For all the hell they'd gone through since the last time they'd danced like this, they were better for it.

"I love you," Ron murmured to Hermione, pulling her body as close to his as he reasonably could without restricting their already limited movement. "I really proper love you."

Hermione laughed lightly. "As opposed to what other way?" she replied, her voice muffled by his dress shirt.

Ron rolled his eyes, though he knew she couldn't see his face. "You know what I mean."

"I love you too. Same way," Hermione replied simply. Ron could hear the smile in her voice. He kissed the top of her head as they continued their quasi-dance.

"We ought to take a break from dancing after this one though," Ron said a moment later, finding himself incapable of being sentimental for longer than a couple of minutes. "I'm thirsty."

"Okay," Hermione said, pulling away as the final chords of the song played and standing on her tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the lips. "I'll grab us some drinks and biscuits if you'll find some seats."

"Deal," Ron said, unable to resist leaning down and kissing her once more, more purposefully this time. She responded with a cheeky smile before she turned and made her way to the refreshment table. Ron could have sworn she was walking with an extra bounce in her step specifically to torture him.

Scanning the room for acceptable table companions, Ron eventually settled on Charlie, who was sitting alone with a bottle of Firewhiskey. This seemed the most promising option; though Harry and Ginny were sitting nearby, they appeared to be thoroughly engaged in a conversation which, judging by the love-struck looks on their faces, Ron wanted no part of.

"Living it up, are we?" Ron teased Charlie as he took a seat next to him.

"Taking a break," Charlie retorted. "Has your lady friend finally gone and left you?"

"She's just fetching some drinks and snacks," Ron said smugly.

"Ah, you've got yourself a good one," Charlie said knowingly. "Best put a ring on her finger before she comes to her senses."

Ron scowled. "You must be the third person today to tell me that."

"That's because we're right," Charlie replied, taking a swig of his drink.

"Well yeah, but it's sort of an 'eventually' thing," Ron mumbled, glancing around him in hopes that Hermione would come and abort this conversation.

"Why wait?" Charlie asked.

Ron hesitated—he'd asked himself this question many times as well. He knew Hermione was the one for him, yet there was something holding him back. Part of the reason was because he was a bit scared of the whole growing up thing, although he had no desire to admit this to Charlie. He did, however provide the other part of the reason. "I just want to have some money saved first," Ron said in a low voice. "And before you tell me she won't care, it's still a problem because _I_ care."

Charlie nodded reasonably. "I s'pose you want to get her a nice ring, a decent house? I don't blame you, so I won't lecture you, but you are right—I don't think she'd care."

Ron sighed heavily, but was saved from responding when Hermione at last returned, holding a bottle of butterbeer and a plate full of biscuits. "Ah, thank you love," Ron said, pulling out the chair next to him.

"You're welcome. I couldn't possibly hold two glasses as well as the snacks so I thought we could just share this bottle," she said. "Hello, Charlie! I haven't really spoken to you yet today."

"No, you've been busy with this one I imagine," Charlie answered good-naturedly, taking a biscuit from the plate without asking. "How're things at the old Ministry?"

"They're going very well, thanks, we've just been given a case on dragons actually; there are reports coming out of a range in Scotland, maybe you've heard of it…"

Hermione was not likely to stop talking anytime soon, but Ron was content to listen. One of his favorite things about Hermione was the amount of passion she brought into everything she did. Just the look in her eyes and the way her cheeks reddened as she talked even more quickly made him want to forget the rest of the evening and take her home.

Not ten minutes later, however, they were interrupted by Percy's voice, which had been charmed to project throughout the room. "Excuse me, if I could have your attention for just one moment…"

Percy stood in the center of the dance floor with Audrey on his arm. Ron reckoned it was the least pompous he'd ever seen Percy look, which was a feat considering he had the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. Audrey did deflate him a bit, and everyone was glad for it.

"I'm not one for long speeches," Percy began. George, sitting next to Angelina Johnson at a nearby table, nearly spat out his drink. Percy shot him a reproachful look before continuing. "Audrey and I would just like to thank you all for sharing this day with us. I would especially like to say a word of thanks to my family—not only for hosting this event, but for their love and support, as I know I haven't always been easy to love. But of course, there's one person that can't be here this evening. I ask you all to raise your glasses to my younger brother Fred. He may not be present, but I can very nearly hear him taking the mickey out of me from wherever he is. To Fred."

"To Fred," the room chorused, many of them teary-eyed. Ron's eyes immediately jumped to George, but he was pleasantly surprised to see how well his brother was holding it together. He smiled as he observed Angelina place her hand on George's. A moment later, the party started up again.

"George looks happier than I've seen him in ages," Charlie commented, clearly having looked in the same direction as Ron.

"Good for him," Hermione said. "I always liked Angelina."

"She's assertive too, yeah?" Ron teased, nudging Hermione's foot with his own. She pursed her lips and stomped on his foot in return, but he could see the amusement in her eyes.

"Weasley men do seem to have a type, don't they?" Charlie mused. "Sorry to leave you two, but there's a brunette a couple tables over who looks like she'd like to dance…"

With that, Ron and Hermione were left alone once again. "Mine or yours tonight?" Hermione asked casually, taking a dainty bite of a biscuit.

"Yours," Ron answered. "I don't want to risk getting in the middle of whatever's going on _there_," he said, gesturing toward Harry and Ginny, who were still deep in intimate conversation at their own table.

"Indeed," Hermione said. "I wouldn't be opposed to leaving within the next hour or so, if you don't mind. Your mum isn't planning on clearing up until tomorrow, she says, so we aren't really needed, and as everyone else seems to be occupied..."

"I'm ready to go," Ron said immediately, standing up while shoving the last couple of biscuits in his mouth.

"Already?" Hermione asked incredulously, also rising from her seat.

"Been ready since the second you started talking about those bloody dragons," Ron admitted.

"Alright, let's just say our goodbyes then—"

"Do we have to?" Ron whined, putting a hand on her waist and drawing her in close. "I've been waiting to have you to myself all day."

"Didn't realize weddings made you randy," Hermione quipped, raising an eyebrow before prying his hand off her waist and lacing their fingers together instead. "Goodbyes and then we're gone, promise."

Thirty minutes later, Hermione at last made her way out of the tent, Ron following impatiently in her wake. "Just some quick goodbyes, indeed," he complained. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, we can. This complaining isn't exactly putting me in the mood, you know," Hermione retorted as they made their way to the edge of the wards.

"Oh, don't be like that," Ron said, taking long strides in an effort to speed up their walk. For each step he took, Hermione had to take two, which was something that amused him greatly.

"I'm not _being_ any way, I'm just telling you that while you possess many attractive qualities, your grouchiness is not one of them," Hermione responded matter-of-factly, immediately halting as they reached the designated apparition point.

"So focus on the good ones," Ron said, smirking as he drew her into an embrace. Their banter didn't faze him at all. He could tell from the goosebumps that arose on her arms as he rubbed them lightly: she was just as interested in what tonight would bring as he was.

"Who'll do the apparating, then?" she asked as she moved her hands to his stomach, tracing his subtly formed abdominal muscles through his shirt.

"Me," he replied mischievously, drawing back to wrap her hands in his own.

"You'd take us straight to the bedroom if you could, wouldn't you?" she asked wryly.

Ron just chuckled before he gripped her hands tightly and turned on the spot. It had been a fantastic night thus far, but it was only just beginning.

* * *

A/N: Wow. I'm not sure how that got up to nearly 6000 words—originally it was looking more like 4000. Again, I'm sorry this took a few days longer than normal. I encountered quite a bit of writer's block with this chapter, and then I went back and forth for awhile about certain parts. Let me know what you think, if you'd like. Thank you for reading. :) The next bit will almost certainly be up before my spring semester begins on Monday!


	11. Row

A/N: Thanks as always to everyone that's been reading. :) You're awesome. This chapter has been in the works for awhile, and I've been a bit nervous to write it because it's kind of angsty. Of course, this is the wazlib88 version of angst –I can't stand to write Ron/Hermione too unhappy for too long. So…here goes. I look forward to receiving feedback and/or any suggestions you may have!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I have already run out of creative ways to say this.

* * *

"The Last Time He Walked Away"

20 October 2000

Hermione Granger was late and she knew it. She had been meant to meet Ron at Grimmauld Place nearly half an hour ago. Harry was gone visiting Ginny at a training camp in France, so they'd have the whole house to themselves. However, one thing had led to another and instead of cooking dinner with Ron, Hermione was in her department's meeting room with two of her coworkers. This was to be expected, somewhat; she'd been promoted to Second Assistant to the Chair a few weeks back, which was a huge accomplishment for someone who'd only been in the department for a year. The addition of new duties was inevitable, and Hermione welcomed it; however, she had to admit it had come at a cost.

She and Ron were seeing less of each other than either one of them would have liked. They used to spend four or five nights a week together; lately, they were lucky to have two. Ron's work schedule had always been something they needed to work around, since it was subject to change on a whim. Hermione's was still constant, but lately it had become extended. Ron insisted she was doing more work than she was required to do, but she dismissed his complaints. "After all," she'd told him as she dressed hurriedly after a quick mid-day rendezvous at her flat a few weeks prior, "how can I possibly continue to advance in my career if I can't handle a simple promotion?"

But soon, even those lunchtime meet-ups had become nonexistent, and Ron didn't seem to realize that it frustrated Hermione just as much as him. It was simply that she saw the purpose for it more clearly. He hadn't liked that reasoning when she'd presented it, but she knew it was true. It was easy for him, after all—his supervisors loved him. She felt as though she had yet to prove herself.

This weekend, though, she'd been planning to give her boyfriend some proper attention. She'd worked days ahead on all her case files and was set to spend two and a half days focused solely on Ron. They'd both been looking forward to tonight. It had been four nights since Ron had last stayed over, which was an eternity by their standards. Hermione had been anxiously waiting until she could go home to him all day. She even had every intention of ducking out early, but one of her supervisors, Mr. Cooper, had called a last minute meeting to discuss the presentation they were meant to give at a conference on Monday.

They'd been working for months on a maltreatment case regarding a dragon range in Scotland, and only now were they able to present their findings and possibly do something about it. Hermione had put a lot into the project; in fact, Mr. Cooper had been so appreciative that he'd put her name on it. This was the first case that she'd had her name directly attached to, and she was desperate to ensure that it was done to the best of her ability. She had prepared for weeks and was confident that Monday would go well, but Mr. Cooper had wanted to give one last briefing to Hermione and her partner on the case, Maureen Darvill, before they left for the weekend. Hermione had agreed reluctantly and sent a quick owl to Ron, explaining the situation and telling him to expect her at six. It was now six-thirty and they were still not quite done.

"I've got these visual aids to explain the studies conducted by Ms. Newport. No need to risk any misunderstandings, so they've been simplified as much as possible without jeopardizing the quality of the information," Maureen was saying. Hermione quite liked Maureen. They were similar in a lot of ways, both hard-working and fairly young in comparison to the rest of the department. There was no one else Hermione would rather be working with on this project.

"Indeed. Well, ladies, I think this all looks very promising. But since I won't be able to accompany you on Monday, if we could just go over one more—say, Ms. Granger, isn't that a friend of yours?" Mr. Cooper asked, pointing out the scratched up window next to the door.

Hermione spun around in her seat and winced. It was, in fact, Ron Weasley who was looking through the window, and he did not look pleased. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cooper, if you could just give me a moment—"

"Actually, why don't we just head out for the evening? I didn't realize I'd kept you so late. Go home and enjoy yourselves, we'll finish going over the details early on Monday morning," Mr. Cooper said, standing and gathering his papers. Hermione and Maureen thanked him as he left the room with a nod toward Ron.

"Did you and Ron have plans tonight?" Maureen asked as they collected their materials. "If you do, then never mind, but I'm meant to meet up with Jacob for drinks with the rest of his squad at the Leaky. I was just thinking…he and Ron sort of knew each other, and it might be nice to have a couple of familiar faces there."

"Of course we'll come," Hermione replied without a second thought. "We were just going to lounge around tonight anyhow."

"Oh, thank you so much," Maureen said, obviously relieved. "This is the first time I'm meeting his friends, and it's a bit out of my comfort zone."

"I don't mind at all," Hermione said understandingly as they left the meeting room to put their things back at their respective desks. Immediately after she was through the door, Ron was at Hermione's side.

"Do you realize what the time is?" he asked impatiently. "I was getting worried!"

"It's just gone six-thirty," Hermione said sharply. "And I sent you an owl, you knew where I was."

"You're still half an hour late," he grumbled.

"I can't control the demands of my job," Hermione said testily. "Did you bring your wallet? Maureen asked if we'd come to the Leaky for awhile. You know her boyfriend Jacob, she's getting drinks with his squad tonight and I told her we'd love to tag along."

"You did?" Ron asked, clearly unamused. "But—"

"I know we were going to spend some time together tonight. I just thought since we've got all weekend, we could do this for my friend. Besides, it'll be fun!" Hermione said, filing the last of her papers and pulling out her coat.

"We haven't got all weekend. I promised George we'd look after the shop while he's with Ange tomorrow," Ron reminded her, frowning. "I can't believe you forgot."

"Oh, of course! I didn't forget; it just slipped my mind with the presentation and all," Hermione finished putting on her coat and dug out her wand to secure her desk before shooting Ron a smile. "Still, we'll be together. Maybe not alone the whole time, but you must admit it's still an improvement."

Ron didn't look appeased, but he too managed to pull what Hermione could tell was a somewhat forced smile. "Let's do drinks, then."

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking and squeezing his hand quickly before letting go and leading the way to Maureen's desk. Within minutes, the three found themselves in the Leaky Cauldron. Ron immediately walked to the bar and ordered a firewhiskey. Hermione frowned—he'd normally avoid hard liquor when he was with her. Deciding to mask her distaste for the time being, she took the seat next to him and ordered a butterbeer for herself. She'd only been drunk once in her life and tonight was not the night to change that.

Maureen sat next to Hermione and anxiously watched the door. "They should be here in about ten minutes, I think. Do you know his squad well, Ron?"

"Not particularly," Ron grunted. "Our work's normally pretty separate. Jacob's a good bloke though."

"He is, isn't he?" Maureen said a bit dreamily. "It's such a relief, to be honest, to find somebody like him. I never did like dating very much. The two of you are so lucky, really, to have found each other so quickly."

Hermione was pleased to see Ron was able to manage a half smile at this comment. "Cheers," he said, raising his glass before downing half of it in one go.

"Are the two of you getting serious, then?" Hermione asked Maureen.

"I think so," the elder girl replied, "which is why I was a bit nervous about meeting his friends, you see. Thank you both so much for coming along."

"We're glad to," Hermione said warmly, willing Ron not to make his reservations known. Luckily, he remained silent.

"Oh, there they are," Maureen said, waving at the tall blonde man who'd just entered the pub. He was accompanied by five other men in their mid-twenties. The group made their way to the bar, each one greeting Ron briefly and acknowledging Hermione—it was common knowledge among many in the wizarding community that Harry Potter's best friends were something of an item.

The evening continued pleasantly enough. Hermione always liked spending time with Maureen, and Jacob was enjoyable company as well. His squad was a bit rowdy, especially after having a few, but the spectacle they made was more entertaining than anything else. Even Ron had managed to put on a sociable front, though Hermione could tell he still wasn't entirely invested in their change of plans. She made a mental note to thank him properly later on.

It was nearly nine when Ron apparently decided he couldn't take it anymore. Hermione had been chatting amicably with Maureen, having left Ron to brood with the other men at least twenty minutes prior, when she felt his hand on the small of her back.

"I'm ready to go," he announced decisively before she'd even had the chance to turn around all the way.

"Ron—" Hermione began to protest; but upon seeing the touch of anger that lay behind the pleasant façade he'd put up, she decided it was best not to argue. Turning back to Maureen, she continued, "It really is getting sort of late, and we've got a bit of an early day tomorrow."

"Oh, of course! Thank you for coming at all," Maureen said warmly, hugging Hermione quickly and squeezing Ron gently on the shoulder. "I'll see you Monday, Hermione!" With that, she made her way back over to Jacob, who greeted her with a wide smile and wrapped an arm around her. Hermione smiled. It was lovely to see her coworker—her _friend_—so happy.

She could only reflect on this for a minute though. Before she was entirely sure what was happening, Ron had summoned their coats, tossed hers to her unceremoniously, and grabbed her wrist tightly, leading her through the crowded pub to the door.

"Ouch, Ron!" Hermione protested as they stepped out into the chilly London air. To his credit, Ron immediately loosened his grip on her wrist.

"Sorry," he mumbled grumpily, not looking at her as he walked them into the nearest alleyway. Once it seemed the coast was clear, Ron pulled Hermione a little closer and turned on the spot. The next moment, they were standing on the doorstep of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Ron still wouldn't meet her eyes as he unlocked the door with his wand and stomped inside, chucking his coat on the landing of the staircase as he made his way to the kitchen. Hermione frowned and hung hers up properly, hesitating for a moment before doing the same to his. She slipped her shoes off quickly before following him.

"We had plans," he said in a low voice once she'd entered the room. Hermione bit her lip as she looked around; the various cooking supplies and ingredients that lay untouched made her feel a twinge of guilt. "I bought everything to make spaghetti," he said in explanation. Hermione looked up. He was finally meeting her gaze again, at least.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as sincerely as she could. "I didn't think you'd mind. We were still together, after all, and Maureen's a good friend."

"You thought I wouldn't mind?" Ron asked incredulously. "Hermione, I've been looking forward to this night all week!"

"So have I!" Hermione shot back, stomping her foot angrily.

"So why'd you have to go and plan over it?" Ron demanded.

"I honestly didn't think you would mind doing this one nice thing!" Hermione replied exasperatedly. "Now please, Ron, I don't want to make an argument out of this—"

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you decided to change our plans without so much as asking me," Ron said in a dangerously calm voice before turning to clean up the things lying on the kitchen counter.

"I said I was sorry!" Hermione said. She could hear the shrillness in her voice, but simply couldn't stop herself. "I don't know what else you want from me!"

"It's not just about the stupid pub," Ron said, shoving a bowl into a cupboard with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Oh, then what's it about?" Hermione challenged.

"Your fucking job, for starters," Ron said, finally raising his voice as he turned back around to face her. The six feet of space between them felt suffocating. Hermione didn't know how else to react but to fire back.

"I am not having this argument again!" Hermione shrieked. "You can't possibly get mad at me for having a _job_, Ron!"

"And you can't expect me to like it when you decide your job is more important than this!" he shot back, gesturing between the two of them.

"You want to bring us into this then? Fine! Let's talk about how _you're_ supposed to support me, especially when it comes to my job, which, by the way, I love, thank you very much for asking!"

"Oh, of course, I'm ever so happy you've found something that can effectively replace your friends and family! Never needed them anyway," Ron scoffed.

"Are you joking, or are you just thick?" Hermione asked, adopting what was really a cruel tone.

"Tomorrow managed to slip your mind, did it not?"

"Oh, give it a rest! I knew we had something going," Hermione protested.

"Right, something," Ron said sarcastically before turning away again, bracing his hands on the countertop and taking a deep breath.

"Look, Ron," Hermione said in a calmer voice, taking a tentative step in his direction. "My job is really important to me, you know that."

"But aren't I?" he asked. What hurt Hermione most was that his voice wasn't quite so angry anymore—instead, it was broken. This was, she decided immediately, far worse than any of the shouting matches they'd had in their younger years. It might not have been quite so loud and explosive, but the stakes were so much higher now.

"Don't be daft, you know you are," Hermione said reflexively. "Look, I don't enjoy the negative aspects of this situation any more than you do."

"Then why don't you do something about it?" Ron asked bitterly, turning around once more. Hermione couldn't bring herself to look directly into his eyes.

"That's not fair. You know I can't help being busy," Hermione snapped more irritably than she had intended.

"Can't you? I get that you've got things to do, but damn it, it's like I don't even make the fucking list anymore!" Ron retorted. "Not to mention that the _one _night in the past week we've both been free, you go and make plans with other people!"

"I said I was sorry, okay? Next time I'll be sure to ask your _permission_ first," Hermione said scathingly.

"Oh, stop it! That's hardly what I'm even bloody on about and you know it!" Ron said, his voice dangerously close to a shout, slamming his hand down on the countertop emphatically.

"Yes, I do know what you're on about, and it's not fair at all! You can't ask me to choose between you and my job, Ron!" Hermione replied in what was definitely a shout.

"And why not? Why's it so fucking hard for you just to choose _me _every once in awhile?" Ron bellowed. He took another deep breath before continuing, in a much quieter voice, "I can't do this right now." He brushed past Hermione without another word and began to leave the kitchen.

She panicked, and without thinking, shouted the first thing that came to her mind: "I thought you said you were done leaving me!" Before she'd finished speaking, Hermione flinched at the implication of her words. Ron positively stiffened.

"DON'T YOU DARE," he roared, facing her once again. "Don't you fucking dare throw that in my face, Hermione! You _know_ how I feel about that, so don't you dare."

Hermione choked back a sob. "So don't make me. _Please._"

Ron breathed a heavy sigh. "I just—I need some air." He turned to go again, but he paused at the door and gulped. "I love you." His voice was low, but his words were unmistakable. However, he'd gone before she had time to return the sentiment.

Even in her shock, Hermione could hear the front door slam from the kitchen. It was the worst fight they'd had in three years, and now she was alone. Screaming in frustration, she grabbed her wand and blasted the nearest object, which just so happened to be the box of spaghetti Ron had bought. Hermione stared at it for a second, but soon couldn't take it anymore. She was sobbing violently before she was quite sure how she felt at all.

Breathing heavily and trying to wipe the tears from her face, she stumbled up the stairs and threw herself into Ron's bed. He had to come back eventually, she reasoned with herself. There was no way he'd stay out all night. He'd come back, and then they could talk it out. She began to cry harder as she recalled his parting words. He loved her. That's what this came down to. That's all their fights had ever come down to, really. It was like they couldn't let things go, not when it came to something as important as each other.

Hermione curled up into a ball as she allowed herself to let out her frustration. It had been building for weeks now, culminating in tonight's argument. She hated not seeing Ron too; he had to know that, didn't he? But then again, did he? She'd assumed he'd understand that there were things she needed to do for her job. She was sure she was right on that point—he needed to support her. But did he have a point? Was she really doing such a bad job balancing her work and her personal life? Maybe she'd assumed too much. Had it been foolish of her to expect her relationship to remain the same when she was making such a big change in her professional life?

Since she and Ron had got together, their relationship had come fairly easily to them. After six years of unresolved sexual tension, the simple fact that they were now allowed to kiss each other without worrying about the consequences had been more than enough for them to base their relationship on. Even the months they'd spent apart while she'd finished her schooling hadn't seemed so bad, because they knew they had the rest of their lives afterward. The problem was that the rest of their lives were here now, and things weren't as perfect as they'd expected them to be.

Perhaps, Hermione reasoned as she began to dry her eyes, having cried just about every tear possible, she'd simply not anticipated having to make a concentrated effort to maintain their relationship. She should have known better, of course. She should have known that love on its own wouldn't be enough to keep them afloat. He'd asked her to choose him—but surely he knew that she _had_ chosen him, a long time ago? And surely he knew that she couldn't be asked to choose between him and her career?

The more these thoughts bounced around in Hermione's head, the more she realized that she'd made a crucial error. When given the choice between Ron and a job, there was really no question—she would choose Ron every time. She could handle losing a job, but losing Ron was simply out of the question. So why did she find it so hard to put her work aside every now and then? She knew the answer, of course; she wanted to be her very best. However, she realized with a jolt, she had been solely focused on being the best employee she could be and had completely neglected her role as Ron's girlfriend. It wasn't just that, either. She was his _best_ friend. She wasn't going to put her work aside, but she was certainly willing to reevaluate her routine. She and Ron simply couldn't go on like this, but they had to go on somehow.

Pleased with her resolution, Hermione hugged a pillow to herself and waited for Ron to return so she could tell him. She was going to make more of an effort, provided he did the same and allowed her to focus on her work when it was _really_ important—and in return, she was going to start being a better judge of what was truly important, because Ron was worth more than any job would ever be.

However, ten o'clock soon turned into eleven which soon became midnight, and Ron still hadn't returned. Hermione was beginning to get worried. They did have plans fairly early the next morning after all, and if Hermione knew Ron, she knew he was far too proud to find lodging for the night with any of his siblings. That would mean he'd have to admit to their fight, and she knew that he wouldn't want to do that. She was the same way. What happened between them was meant to stay between them, and unsolicited advice from family members and friends would likely make things worse.

It was just gone one when Hermione came to a realization. Bolting out of bed, she hurriedly rearranged the bed and went downstairs to find her shoes and coat. She was going to have to go find him this time. He'd come back on his own before, but the situation had been entirely different. It was her turn, now, to show him that their relationship meant more to her than any stupid fight they had. After racking her brains for a minute, she came to only one logical conclusion of where Ron could be. She tied her shoes in record time and a moment later, had exited the door and turned on the spot.

A moment later, Hermione found herself just outside the wards of the Burrow. Hurriedly, she made her way toward the small clearing she knew to be a few yards away from where Fred had been laid to rest. She and Ron had spent quite a bit of time there the summer after the war. In a house full of people, sometimes it was necessary to go outside in order to be alone, and Ron had certainly looked as though he'd wanted to be alone when he'd left Grimmauld Place a few hours ago.

Luckily, Hermione could see as she approached that her theory had been right. Despite the fact that it was cold enough for Hermione to see her breath when she exhaled, Ron was currently sat underneath a tree at the edge of the clearing without a coat on. Swallowing her immediate urge to scold him, she moved toward him tentatively. She could tell that he knew she was there, even though he didn't acknowledge her. He was holding a bottle of firewhiskey in his right hand, but it appeared to be only about half-empty.

Gulping audibly, Hermione sat down next to Ron, leaving a bit of space between their bodies. She was silent for a moment before saying, quietly but firmly, "I'm always going to choose you."

Ron breathed out heavily. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to choose. I'm always going to support your career, Hermione. It makes you happy, that's all I want."

"But if I was going to choose," Hermione insisted, "it'd be you. You make me happy."

Ron sighed heavily. "Want some?" he asked, offering her his bottle.

Hermione nodded once and took a swig, making a bit of a face at the taste. Ron chuckled softly at the sight. "I hate fighting with you," she said as she gave him the bottle back.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I sort of started it."

"You had a bit of a point though," Hermione reasoned. "I just—I didn't mean to take what we have for granted, you have to know that."

"I do," Ron said earnestly. "I'm sorry."

"Stop it," Hermione asserted. "I'm the one who's sorry. I haven't got my priorities in order at all. I've got to do my job, we both know that, but I've got to make time for you. I _want_ to make time for you."

Ron nodded and took her hand in his own, squeezing it gently. "And I've got to support you when work's got to be the priority. You know I admire how hard you work, don't you? And it's amazing how much you love your job, Hermione. I'd never want to take that away. I just—I get a bit selfish sometimes."

"I know," Hermione said sincerely, shuffling closer so that she could wrap her arms around his torso. "It's not selfish of you to want to spend time together."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I've missed you this week. It drives me mad, having you in the same building and not being able to see you."

"I've missed you too," Hermione said, laughing a little. "Our fight seems so stupid now."

"All our fights seem pretty stupid after the fact," Ron said, leaning his head atop hers. "At least we're better at making up now."

Hermione hummed contentedly, but then a thought occurred to her. "Ron?"

"Hm?"

"I'm really sorry about what I said."

"About what?"

"You know what I mean," she said. "About leaving."

"Oh. No, it's fine. I shouldn't have left."

"It's not fine, though," Hermione insisted. "You were right. We were suffocating in there; we needed to think things through so we could talk about it rationally."

"But I meant what I promised to you back then," Ron said fiercely. "I can't walk away when things get tough."

"You can't promise that," Hermione said reasonably. "When we get like that, it's better if one of us leaves. That keeps us from saying things we don't mean, which keeps us from hurting each other. Promise me something else instead."

"What's that?"

Hermione pulled her head back to look him in the eyes. "Just promise me you'll never walk away for good. And I'll promise the same. I love you, Ron, and this…us….it's too important to leave behind."

"Hermione," Ron said sincerely. "I promise you, I'm never going to give up on us."

The power and certainty in his voice was almost too much for Hermione. She choked back a sob as she brought her hand up to touch his face gently. "I love you," she repeated before she closed the gap between them and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I love you too," Ron said when they broke apart a moment later. "Want to go home? It's freezing out here. My warming charm's wearing off."

"Thank goodness you cast one," Hermione replied as she stood up before offering him a hand. "I was worried when I saw you without a coat."

"I'm too much of a baby to sit out here without any source of heat," Ron joked, taking her hand and leading them toward the edge of the wards again. "What's the time? I left my watch."

"It must be nearly two by now," Hermione replied as they came to a stop at the apparition point. A moment later, they found themselves once again on the doorstep to Grimmauld Place, this time in a much lighter mood.

"Nearly two," Ron said thoughtfully as he pulled off his shoes. "Not too late really, is it?" The look in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Not too late at all," Hermione agreed quietly, taking his hand again and leading him upstairs. She shut the bedroom door behind them out of habit, regardless of the fact that they were the house's only occupants, and kissed him once more. He responded with enthusiasm, and very little time passed at all before Hermione found herself lying on the bed with Ron hovering over her, both of them completely rid of clothes.

For just a moment, Hermione pulled away from their deep kisses and instead pulled Ron closer so that she could feel his weight. She savored the intimacy of the moment; she'd missed it. Though they'd been together like this since she'd been promoted, it had been ages since they'd been able to really take their time. Looking into her eyes, Ron seemed to read her mind. He kissed her once more, chastely this time.

"I love you so much," she whispered, feeling tears coming to her eyes once again.

"I love you," Ron said sincerely. Though his eyes were dry, Hermione could hear the slight shake in his voice. She nodded once, and then they were together in every sense of the word. It was slow and passionate and beautiful, and Hermione couldn't remember the last time it had been quite this good—but she vowed that she would never let them go so long without it.

Afterward, once they'd each caught their breath, Ron pulled her close and she settled into his embrace. She smiled happily; Ron had a particular affinity to post-coital cuddling that was really quite adorable but that he'd made her swear never to reveal to anyone.

"That was brilliant," he said quietly as he brought one of his hands up to her hair and began to play with her curls.

"It was," she agreed sleepily, tracing the skin of his back lightly with her fingertips.

"Shame we promised George we'd help out tomorrow," Ron commented. "I'd rather spend the whole day here."

"Let's spend the whole of tomorrow night here instead," Hermione proposed. "We've got a lot of catching up to do, I think."

"Now that's an idea I can get on board with," Ron said, smiling. He leaned forward and kissed her again. It was one of Hermione's favorite kinds of kisses—the kind when they were both too sleepy for it to amount to anything more, but the kind that was filled with a sort of love and closeness that only a relationship like theirs could have.

"Love you," Hermione whispered for what must have been close to the hundredth time since they'd made up, but she felt as though she couldn't say it enough. It was as if she wanted to make up for the things she'd said earlier, and for the things she'd forgotten to say for the past few weeks.

"Love you," Ron whispered back as she turned over to her other side, both of them preferring to spoon as they slept. Ron laid one arm just above the head and wrapped the other around her torso. She captured one of his hands in both of hers and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. She could rest easy; they'd survived their first real fight as a couple, and they were stronger for it. After all, they'd faced everything from silly spats to power hungry dark wizards, and they'd come out of it all alive and together. The more they lived, the more Hermione was certain that there was nothing that could ever truly tear them apart.

* * *

A/N: So it was angsty and then it was cheesy. Don't say I didn't tell you all that I can't properly do angst without resolving it almost immediately. :) Parts of this were inspired by the song "For the First Time" by the Script. Additionally, I should mention that this was one of the first chapters of this fic that I began to plan back in July, and I think part of it was probably influenced by the fact that I was reading HalfASlug's "The Longest Start" at the time. So go read that if you haven't because it's awesome.

In other news—Fall Out Boy is off hiatus and the sixteen year old in me is listening to every song of theirs on repeat. Yep.

I feel as though I should warn you all that not only have I just started a new semester at school, but I'm entering a critical time in my athletic season which means the next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic for me. I'm going to attempt to continue to update about once a week, but please know that even if it takes a bit longer, under NO circumstances am I going to abandon this fic. :) Thank you all so much for your support!


	12. Year

A/N: Hello. Let's see if anyone remembers who I am…it's been awhile, and I apologize for that. I've been very busy for the past few weeks and I feel terrible about it. I really don't think there will be this long of a wait again, and you're welcome to send me angry messages if there is.

Anyway, thank you all so much for the support and feedback! I've been reading fanfiction for a long time, but it wasn't until I started writing again that I really began to fully appreciate the wonderful community of people here, and it's just a joy to share my love of Harry Potter and of Ron/Hermione with all of you. :)

Disclaimer: I may not own Harry Potter but there are two full sets of the books in the room I'm currently sitting in and that makes me feel happy.

* * *

"The Last Day of the Year"

31 December 2000

The charmed alarm clock on the bedside table beeped insistently, but Ron determinedly ignored it. Instead, he pulled Hermione closer to himself and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat meaningfully. Fine, if that's how it was going to be, he thought. The noise was getting rather annoying, after all. He sat up quickly, grabbed the alarm clock, and threw it at the wall with the same amount of strength as he would a Quaffle.

"Really?" Hermione protested drowsily. He could practically hear her rolling her eyes as he settled back against her.

"Yep," Ron said remorselessly, shutting his eyes again and moving his hands lazily over her sides and stomach.

"We're meant to be there in an hour," she reminded him half-heartedly.

"So we've got another forty-five minutes to sleep, then," Ron replied. "Don't see why we have to go, anyway."

"We always go to the Burrow on New Year's Eve," Hermione pointed out, turning over to face him.

"Tired. Feels like the middle of the night," Ron whined as Hermione brought her hands up to his hair.

"I know, but we've just slept all afternoon," she said. "We've just got to be functioning members of society for a few hours and then we can stay in bed all day tomorrow."

Ron grunted in acknowledgement. "I'm not showering."

She moved closer to him and gave a dramatic sniff. "Well, you don't smell too bad, I suppose."

"Oi!" Ron protested, digging his fingers into her side in what he knew was her ticklish spot.

Hermione laughed breathlessly, swatting his hands away and rolling to the edge of her bed. "I do want to take a shower," she informed him, standing up and walking over to pick up the now broken alarm clock. With a wave of her wand, she repaired it and set it back on the bedside table. "You best not complain when I come back for you after."

"Wishful thinking," Ron muttered, burying his face into one of her pillows as he heard her leave the room and make her way into the bathroom. It wasn't that he really wanted to miss his family's celebration; it was just that he was more bloody tired than he'd been in ages.

Ever since Ron had confronted Hermione about the all-consuming nature of her job back in the fall, she had taken care to make sure she balanced her work life and her personal life more effectively. In exchange, he promised not to complain when her job had to be her priority—which was not as easy as it sounded, mind you, but she had upheld her end of the bargain. She'd even taken two weeks off for the holidays at the end of December, and by some stroke of luck, Ron had managed to talk Robards and Price into letting him have a full ten days off. This, of course, came with the understanding that he'd take on the least desirable shifts for as long as they deemed it necessary, but Ron figured it was worth it. Hermione had been overjoyed at the news because it meant they could accompany her parents on their annual winter holiday. This year, they'd chosen to revisit Australia. Though the memories of the year they spent there were hazy at best, they remembered liking it, and besides, a week in the southern hemisphere during December was a promising prospect.

It had been a good holiday, Ron thought in retrospect. They'd flown down the day after Christmas, and Ron was proud to say that he'd traveled via aeroplane and lived to tell the tale. The first few days had been a bit awkward. Though Hermione had somehow convinced her parents that she and Ron would only require one room between them, Ron still felt thoroughly uncomfortable touching her when he knew her dad was across the hall. His relationship with Mr. Granger had improved over the course of the past couple of years, but there was still a definite line that Ron felt as though he was crossing every other moment.

"They think we're shagging in here anyway," Hermione had told him matter-of-factly on their second night there, after he'd reluctantly suggested they simply cuddle after a heated snogging session.

"So what you're saying is I'm not going to be able to look your parents in the eyes either way?" Ron asked sarcastically, unable to discern what kind of silver lining this was supposed to be.

"Exactly, so you might as well get some enjoyment out of it," Hermione said in her best attempt at a seductive voice as she trailed her hand down his chest and stomach.

Needless to say, Ron hadn't taken much more convincing. Of course, the awkward coughing and overly polite greetings between himself and Mr. Granger were by no means avoided, but Ron had come to the conclusion that he'd have to get used to it at some point anyway. He'd briefly wondered how Harry managed to function normally around his dad, but quickly shoved those thoughts out of his mind—he still maintained that Harry and Ginny were virgins, after all, and that they would continue to be long after their children went to Hogwarts.

Much of the holiday had gone by in a blur. Hermione and her parents were accustomed to sightseeing, but Ron couldn't remember for the life of him what half the sites they saw even were. A few of them were interesting and most of them were nice, but he didn't listen with rapt attention like the Grangers did. There were, however, some parts of the trip that Ron was sure he'd never forget—the shark diving, for example.

Apparently, as Ron learned the day before they were meant to return to England, some muggles actually thought it fun to go into an underwater cage and watch sharks as they swim by. And apparently, Mr. Granger was one of these muggles. While Hermione and her mother had downright refused to take part in such an activity, Ron had agreed to join him. Whether he was driven by some subconscious curiosity or simply the desire to be liked by the man that would probably be his father-in-law someday, Ron wasn't entirely sure. He didn't remember many details of the experience because he was so focused on trying not to move or breathe (or exist, really), but he would never forget how close he'd got to an actual fucking shark. As far as he was concerned, no one could ever take the mickey out of him for his arachnophobia again, and even better, Mr. Granger had seemed quite impressed.

They'd spent the rest of that afternoon relaxing on a beach, but soon enough it had been time to return to cold and dreary England. They'd finally got back to Hermione's flat early that morning and had promptly collapsed into bed, exhausted from their week abroad. But it was New Year's Eve and Ron knew his family would never let them skive. If they were more than an hour late, his mother was liable to come looking for them, and he certainly didn't want that to happen.

About ten minutes later, Ron heard footsteps coming back into the bedroom and shortly after, he felt small, delicate fingers on his back. Flipping over abruptly, he reached up and pulled Hermione down on top of him, burying his face in her damp hair and inhaling the scent of her vanilla and honey shampoo. He brought his hands around to rub her back, coming dangerously close to but not quite touching her bum.

"We haven't got time," she reminded him as she pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. She pulled back, wrinkling her nose a little. "You really ought to shave soon, you know."

"Thought you liked it," Ron muttered embarrassedly, bringing a hand up to his face to rub the stubble that had accumulated there over the past week. He'd forgotten to bring a razor to Australia and hadn't been bothered enough to rectify the situation.

"You're handsome either way," Hermione placated, leaning down to peck his lips. "But really Ron, a week is a bit long, don't you think?"

"So it looks good after four days, but it's a bit much after a week?" Ron asked accusingly, squeezing her waist with one hand. She'd certainly seemed to appreciate his facial hair very much a few nights ago, after all.

"Don't start," she replied, prying his hand off of her and standing up again. "It's not that it looks bad, it's just scratchy. You ought to shave before you go back to work, though."

"I was gonna," he said with just a touch of irritation in his voice as finally got out of bed himself. He walked across the room and began to rummage through the drawer of her dresser that had become his. After a moment, he came up with an old pair of jeans and a maroon jumper from two Christmases ago. He made a mental note to leave his luggage from Australia at her flat—he needed more clothes to choose from when he was here.

"Can you believe it's almost been another year?" Hermione asked conversationally as she began to brush and dry her hair. "Seems just yesterday we were ringing in the new millennium."

"Time flies," Ron remarked as he changed his pants and trousers. He smirked to himself as he took a glance at Hermione. If she thought she was being discreet about the way she was watching him in the reflection of the mirror, she was gravely mistaken.

"It was a good year, though," she continued primly, as though she was daring him to say something. He didn't.

"It was," Ron agreed, reflecting momentarily on Victoire's birth and Percy's wedding. "Reckon this one might be a bit quieter."

"You think?"

"We can only take so many babies and weddings at a time," Ron said, tossing her one of his jumpers to wear. While others would dress up for New Year's, Weasleys would wear their jumpers. Of course, Hermione had been receiving her own Weasley jumpers at Christmas for a few years now, but Ron preferred to see her in his, and she had no qualms about it.

"It's sort of to be expected, you know," Hermione replied casually. "We're all twenty-somethings now, after all."

"_You're_ a twenty-something," Ron replied. "I've still got a few months of being just plain twenty."

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "You really think it'll be a quiet year, then?"

"Dunno," Ron said thoughtfully. He hesitated for a moment, but then continued: "I mean, I'd think we'd be next, you know? But not yet, right?" he asked apprehensively, forcing himself to meet her eyes.

"No, not yet, I don't think," Hermione replied softly, giving him a small smile. "Though I don't suppose we can put it off too much longer, can we?"

"No, not too much longer," Ron affirmed, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. They exchanged looks that said far more than their words had: _We're not putting it off, not really. Just a bit longer, just a bit more money to save. We both want this, sooner rather than later._

"We might not be next though," she continued matter-of-factly, tearing her eyes from his as she put the finishing touches on her hair, tying it back practically.

"Who else?" Ron asked quizzically.

"Harry and Ginny have been together just as long as we have," Hermione pointed out.

"Doesn't mean it's on the table for them yet," Ron insisted, trying and failing to recall any time _that speckled git_, as he referred to him when it came to Ginny, had seemed interested in marrying his sister.

Hermione just bit her lip and sighed heavily. Ron furrowed his eyebrow in response. "What do you know?" he asked carefully.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, knowing she would cave in fairly quickly. Neither of them could keep a secret from the other for very long anymore. They'd made a point in the past couple of years to be as open and honest as possible, and neither was very comfortable with anything less. "Oh, alright, but as far as anyone else knows I didn't say a word," Hermione relented after a moment of tense eye contact.

"Go on," Ron prompted, nodding in affirmation that, as always, what was said between them would stay between them.

"I don't know anything for certain," Hermione said slowly, sitting next to Ron on the bed, "but a couple of weeks ago, Harry asked me which types of gemstones Ginny preferred."

"That could be for any type of jewelry," Ron pointed out. "It was just Christmas."

"But when was the last time you saw Ginny wear jewelry?" Hermione asked, raising any eyebrow.

"Fair point," Ron conceded, "but Harry's never been particularly good at hiding things like this."

"You've never been great at noticing, either," Hermione said gently.

"But he'd have told me," Ron insisted. "Wouldn't he have?" Come to think of it, he and Harry very rarely discussed their relationships, but that was to be expected given the circumstances. But still, surely his _best mate_ would have mentioned something as big as this…surely…

"I wouldn't be too surprised if he hadn't," Hermione said, cutting through Ron's thoughts. She read the hurt look on his face immediately and added, "Just think, Ron. Would you have told him?"

Ron thought for a moment. Would he have? There wasn't really a way to drop something like that into casual conversation, and he and Harry dreaded having conversations that were anything other than casual. Those kinds of conversations were generally followed by lots of fake coughing and several minutes of avoiding eye contact before abruptly changing the subject. "Probably not, unless he'd asked," Ron admitted honestly.

"And you didn't ask him," Hermione pointed out. "Don't dwell on it too much. We don't know anything for sure." She kissed him lightly on the cheek and threaded her fingers through his. "Let's go, shall we?"

A few minutes later, they were stepping through the fireplace into the sitting room of the Burrow. A loud roar greeted their arrival, and soon they were surrounded by a gaggle of tipsy Weasleys eager to ask them about Australia. Mum was nearly in tears as she pulled them both into a hug, and Ron dared not point out to her that she'd just seen them on Christmas. After greeting everyone and retelling the story of the sharks several times, Ron and Hermione finally made their way into the kitchen.

"What do you say, is the prospect of another year with me enough for you to have some real liquor tonight?" Ron asked Hermione jokingly as he poured himself a glass of firewhiskey.

"When you put it that way, I guess I better," Hermione replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she offered him her glass. He filled it up and handed it back to her, raising his eyebrows in a silent dare. She took a dainty sip and he let out a whoop, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders as they made their way back into the sitting room.

"Oi, Ron!" George called as they walked in, beckoning them toward him and Angelina Johnson, his not-quite-girlfriend. "Are you fucking mental?" he asked, slurring only slightly as he gripped his brother's shoulder.

"What?" Ron asked innocently.

"He wants to know why in Merlin's name you swam with sharks!" Angelina said, laughing as she took a swig of George's drink.

"Zactly! Guess once you've ridden a couple of dragons those ruddy sharks don't seem so bad, eh?" George asked, winking obnoxiously.

"It wasn't even that dangerous. I was in a cage," Ron muttered, wishing he hadn't told this story at all. It made for a cool anecdote, but it wasn't something he particularly wanted to talk about at length, especially not with his drunk brother.

Angelina and George looked at each other and laughed harder. "They put _you_ in a cage? When you were swimming with sharks?" George asked incredulously. "Clearly you're a bit unstable, mate, but really—"

"Well you can't very well put a wild shark in a cage, can you?" Ron snapped a little irritably, though deep down he was pleased to see the teasing expression on George's face. His sense of humor had been a bit off since the war, but it seemed to come out best when he was with Angie.

"Leave him be, he was just trying to impress my dad," Hermione said helpfully. Ron groaned.

"Ah, wanted to prove to Mr. Granger that his daughter's seeing someone with bollocks! It all makes sense now," George said, nodding knowingly. "Can't have the man thinking his little girl's unsatisfied, can we?"

"Oh, George, you're embarrassing him!" Angelina said, giggling as she pointed at Ron's reddening face.

"Nah, that's just his natural color," George quipped. "Hermione finds it quite becoming, I'm sure. That and the pathetic attempt at facial hair is what sealed the deal, I'd wager."

"Good-bye, George," Ron said promptly, steering Hermione toward where Harry was sitting and leaving George and Angelina to their own devices.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron asked as a way of greeting as he and Hermione sat down next to Harry on the sofa.

"Coming from practice," Harry replied anxiously, his eyes darting over to the fireplace every few seconds. "Gwenog's been pushing them harder than usual the past couple weeks, thinks they've got a shot at winning the League this year."

"They have," Ron said fairly, considering for a moment each of the top teams. Holyhead had been among the best clubs for quite some time, but they always seemed to fall just short. "Can't count out those damn Tornadoes, though."

"We never can," Harry agreed. "So really, how was Australia compared to last time?"

"Far less stressful," Hermione answered. "It was so nice to simply be there on holiday; it's really a beautiful country. We saw so little of it when we were all there, but we were able to do so much even in just a week. And it was so lovely to spend time with my parents; it's been ages since I've gone on holiday with them, and they finally had a chance to really get to know Ron, which was wonderful."

"Yeah," Ron said vaguely. "I spent seven days actively making sure your dad couldn't find a reason to hate me." This elicited a chuckle from Harry, but Hermione frowned.

"My dad never hated you, and you certainly didn't need to indulge his shark obsession to make it so. Honestly, Ron, just because we slept in the same room didn't mean you had to compensate by participating in Dad's idea of what constitutes _fun…_"

Harry was nearly doubled over in laughter now. "Oh, piss off," Ron scowled, shoving Harry just enough to make him hit the arm of the sofa with some force.

"You went shark diving," Harry said incredulously, still chortling. "You went shark diving because her dad found out you two—y'know—sleep in the same bed. Which, based on my unfortunately fairly accurate knowledge, you've been doing for well over two years."

"Isn't it a bit ridiculous?" Hermione asked Harry, grinning widely and giggling as she took another sip of her drink.

Ron glared at his friends unkindly. "It's easy for the two of you to say. Mum and Dad loved both of you long before we all stopped believing in cooties."

"Oh, give it a rest," Harry said, waving him off. "It's nice to have you both back in the country, anyway."

"I expect the department's fallen apart without me," Ron remarked, smirking casually.

"I did have a case out in Glasgow the other day that you might've liked," Harry replied, glancing at the fireplace quickly as he spoke.

"They made you go all the way out to Glasgow?" Ron asked incredulously. Generally they weren't called out of England for their daily work.

"Yeah, it was bizarre. It all started with an elfish prostitution ring, actually—"

Hermione's outraged shriek was drowned out by a triumphant roar from the rest of the party—Ginny had just stepped through the fireplace, and Harry immediately jumped out of his seat to rush to her side. Before anyone really had a chance to register what was happening, Ginny was holding up her left hand to display a large diamond on her ring finger. Delighted screams and shouts of congratulations filled the air. Ron felt his mouth drop open. Even the warning he'd received earlier had not quite prepared him for this new development.

"Oh, that's wonderful! I was right!" Hermione squealed—her voice was a bit higher than normal, as it tended to be when she drank anything with actual alcohol in it.

Ron shook himself out of his stupor and looked toward his girlfriend, smiling affectionately. She was still giggling and clapping her hands enthusiastically, a little bit of firewhiskey spilling out of her glass with every clap. Ron couldn't help but swoop down and kiss her cheek sloppily before standing up and offering her a hand.

"Do you think I was right to tell him to buy a diamond? It's classic, you know, and Ginny's not particularly fussy—" Hermione said hurriedly as she allowed him to pull her up.

"It looks great," Ron assured her as they approached the throng of Weasleys surrounding the fireplace, which Ginny had barely got out of before being mobbed. Over several heads, Harry caught Ron's eye. Ron was immediately reminded of a similar moment in the Gryffindor common room all those years ago, and just as he had then, he gave Harry an approving nod—but this time, he couldn't help but grin widely, an expression Harry reciprocated immediately. He was beyond okay with what was happening this time; he was really, truly happy for them.

"Guess we aren't next," Ron muttered to a teary-eyed Hermione as he waited for the small crowd to thin.

"We'll be next after the next," Hermione said a little dreamily, turning to smile brilliantly at him.

"We're the ones engaged, and you're the ones making eyes at each other," Ginny made her presence known, as usual, by making a snarky remark. Hermione squealed again and tackled the younger girl in a hug. As the girls began talking in fast, excited voices about Ginny's ring and wedding plans, Harry made his way over to Ron.

"You'll be my best man, yeah?" Harry said sincerely, extending a hand.

"I should hope so. I haven't been saving your sorry arse all these years for nothing, you know," Ron replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it firmly while using his other hand to clap Harry's back. Harry mimicked him, and soon they were embracing—but in a very manly fashion, of course.

"Fuck, mate. You're getting _married_," Ron said incredulously as they separated.

"I know," Harry said, clearly a little shell-shocked to hear the words spoken out loud. He laughed disbelievingly, and Ron joined him. In that moment, it truly didn't matter one bit to Ron that Harry hadn't told him sooner.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, nearly jumping him in her enthusiasm to embrace him and clearly knocking the wind out of him.

Ron chuckled and pulled Ginny into a hug. "Congratulations, brat," he murmured affectionately.

"Thanks, prat," Ginny said, pulling away and punching him lightly on the arm. She frowned when she looked fully at his face. "Shave."

Ron let out a frustrated groan. "It doesn't look that bad!"

"Well, I don't know how Hermione can kiss you with that shite all over your face. Then again I don't know why she kisses you at all, so…" Ginny said, smirking.

"Grow up. You'll be a married woman soon," Ron said, poking her in the shoulder.

"I will, won't I?" Ginny said thoughtfully, bringing her hand in front of her face to admire her ring as Harry put his arm around her shoulders, evidently having been freed from Hermione's death grip.

At that moment, Bill came in from the kitchen holding several more bottles of firewhiskey to toast Harry and Ginny, and the whole family erupted in shouts and, in some cases, tears. The whole room was filled with carefree laughter, and as Ron allowed his gaze to sweep over his family and his best friends, he was fairly certain he'd never been quite so happy. Things weren't perfect, everyone knew that, but there would always be some things they simply couldn't change. All in all, the good did outweigh the bad.

So, when Ron turned to face Hermione and saw that her expression undoubtedly mirrored his own, he couldn't help but kiss her. He ignored the hollering of his brothers ("It's not even midnight yet!"), because he was simply too blissful to bother. All was well, and with any luck, it would only get better from here.

* * *

A/N: Well, it's kind of unfortunate that we came back on a fairly short chapter, and in the interest of full disclosure I will admit that this is not one of my favorite chapters – but I think perhaps you could all use the pointless fluff as a break between the last chapter and the next. I will assure you that there is not another fight in the next bit, but there will be an actual plot to contend with, haha. So anyway, I'm sorry this took so long and I hope it was at least sort of worth the wait. Please let me know if you catch any mistakes - I was in a bit of a hurry to get it actually posted! Thank you as always, lovelies. :)


	13. Hospital

A/N: Thank you as always for being lovely. :)

Bit of shameless self-promotion: I wrote a one-shot for Ron's birthday. It's called "The Good Life" and it can be found on my profile if you're interested. It will rock you like a flufficane.

Also, go read "The Black Library" by Rokesmith. It's **_very_** good, and it's just been completed so you won't have to wait for updates. It's got a gripping plot and some lovely R/Hr and trio moments.

Disclaimer: If I ever claimed to own Harry Potter, I'd get booed off the stage before JKR ever had a chance to get to me. "She doesn't even go here!"

* * *

"The First Hospital Stay"

10 March 2001

Hermione rushed through the halls of St. Mungo's faster than she had moved in ages. Harry's Patronus had been vague. He should have known better; Hermione was sure that over the years he must have picked up on the fact that she liked to know all there was to know. Not knowing things made her anxious. Not knowing things made her lose her cool. In fact, her mind was so far out of her head that when she rounded a corner, she ran directly into Harry.

"Harry!" she screeched immediately, unable to keep the panic out of her voice. "What's happened? Where's Ron? Is he okay? Of course he's not, you wouldn't have called me otherwise! Oh Harry, please! Tell me!"

Rather than speaking right away, Harry pulled her into a tight hug. "He's going to be fine," he said softly in her ear. "They don't know much right now, but he's not in any grave danger as far as we know."

"As far as you know?" Hermione whispered, her voice breaking on the last word. She could feel tears leaking out of her eyes and onto Harry's shoulder.

"He will be fine," Harry said more firmly, patting her on the back in a somewhat comforting way.

A few minutes and several shaky breaths later, Hermione sighed deeply and stepped backward. Harry gave her a half-hearted smile and began to lead her down the hallway.

"So what happened?" she pressed again, a little calmer this time.

"We were out on a call. It was…it wasn't an easy case. Ron got distracted and the suspect cast a curse in his direction. I threw up a shield that got the brunt of it, but it still knocked him out. I don't know what kind of curse it was, but I know that he's alive and the healers say the chance of that changing is minimal. We'll know more soon," Harry explained mechanically as they turned another corner.

Hermione nodded briskly. Harry's clinical tone was strangely more comforting than anything else. Hearing the facts laid out for her helped her to see the situation rationally. Ron had been hurt, but he was alive. She was still worried, but they would know more soon. But one thing was still bothering her…

"Harry,'' she said sincerely, placing a hand on his arm to stop him before they reached the small group of Weasleys at the end of the hallway, "I realize you probably haven't filed the paperwork yet, but please, why was he so distracted?"

Harry gulped audibly. "It wasn't an easy case," he repeated slowly. "I can't blame him in the least."

"Can you tell me anything?" Hermione pleaded, desperate to know at least the basic facts.

"It was a domestic disturbance call," Harry said, sighing deeply. "I—there are signs…"

"An abuse case?" Hermione guessed quickly.

Harry nodded once. "I can't say much more yet."

"You don't have to," Hermione said grimly, nodding understandingly before turning to walk the rest of the way to meet Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, George, and Ginny. She was greeted immediately with a tight hug from the Weasley matriarch.

"Oh, Hermione dear! Thank goodness you're finally here; the healers should be out soon. It sounds like he'll be alright, but of course I'll feel better when I hear as much verbatim from a healer's mouth!" Mrs. Weasley said, releasing Hermione with a pat on her cheek before pacing anxiously, as was her custom in these sorts of situations.

"He'll be back at it before we know it, Mum," George said comfortingly. "Bloke's dealt with sharks and Death Eaters, it won't be one measly curse that gets him. And that's not to mention his right scary girlfriend," he added as an afterthought with a nod toward Hermione.

"You're not helpful, George," Ginny scolded as she gestured toward the seat next to her, which Hermione took. Ginny immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Are you alright, Hermione?"

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "I've barely got a grasp on what's happening. I'll feel better once we know more."

"You're in luck, then," Mr. Weasley said calmly, pointing toward the small group of healers that was exiting the room Hermione guessed was Ron's. One of them, a tall man with graying hair, approached the group wearing a serious expression.

"Auror Weasley is in stable condition," the healer said without preamble. "We aren't entirely sure which curse hit him, but after a thorough examination, his injuries appear to be relatively minimal. He sustained some fractures in his ribs and a very minor concussion from his fall. We've administered the proper potions and given him a sleeping draught, which will keep him sedated for at least four hours. We'll reevaluate his condition when he wakes, but we are fairly confident that we will be able to release him by noon tomorrow."

The group gathered breathed a collective sigh of relief. "May we go in to see him?" Mrs. Weasley asked eagerly.

"If you wish," the healer said simply. "An assistant will be checking in on him regularly and throughout the night." The healer nodded to the family, who thanked him as they rose from their seats.

Ron was occupying one of the private rooms that were set aside for Aurors and other high-profile ministry employees. It was not spacious; there was only one small, uncomfortable-looking armchair, which Harry immediately guided Hermione into. He sat on the chair's arm, and the rest of the family stood around Ron's bed. Ron looked peaceful, which calmed Hermione immensely—he was a bit paler than usual, and he had some bruises on his face, but all in all he looked as he normally did when he slept.

As Mrs. Weasley began to fuss over Ron, Hermione sighed deeply and covered her face with her hands. Only now that she saw he was alright were the intense emotions she'd experienced in the last half hour coming to the surface. It was a strange mix of worry and relief, and it was incredibly overwhelming. She willed herself not to cry—he was okay, she repeated to herself. It was only when she felt Harry's hand grip her shoulder briefly that she looked up to give him an unconvincing smile. He looked skeptical, but didn't say anything.

"Thank goodness you were there, Harry," Ginny said conversationally as she sat down gingerly on the end of Ron's bed. "What kind of curse do you reckon it was?"

"Dunno," Harry said. "Suspect said an incantation, but I didn't catch it."

"I imagine it may have been meant to break his bones," Hermione said quietly. "He hit his head on the ground when he fell, but I can't imagine he fractured his ribs in the process. Was it a blue light, Harry?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said, clearly connecting the dots as Hermione had a moment ago. "I think I know the curse you're thinking of. You're probably right, of course. I think the fact that the bloke casting it probably had no idea what he was doing did more to help Ron than my shield charm could have, in that case."

"So he didn't do what he meant to, then?" Ginny asked.

"The curse breaks every bone in your opponent's body if you cast it right," Harry said quietly. "Course, it's bloody difficult. I don't know that it's ever been cast properly. Normally it's confined to the area the spell hits, thankfully. His ribs might've been broken if I hadn't got the shield up in time, but I can't imagine it'd have done much more damage."

Mrs. Weasley turned white as a sheet upon hearing this news. Mr. Weasley visibly tightened his grip on her waist, possibly to help hold her up. "Oh dear," she said quietly. Even George was without a clever retort.

Ginny exchanged a meaningful look with Harry before clearing her throat and announcing, "Why don't we all head back to the Burrow for now? He's going to spend the rest of the night asleep, I imagine. We'll come back first thing in the morning."

The rest of the Weasleys nodded their heads and began to get ready to leave. Ginny hopped off Ron's bed and approached the chair Harry and Hermione were occupying. "You two are staying, of course," she said matter-of-factly.

"Got to," Harry said quietly, taking one of Ginny's hands and squeezing it lightly. Hermione offered only a half-hearted smile.

"Of course you do," Ginny said understandingly. "I'm hardly going to be the one to try to keep the three of you apart at a time like this. Just send a Patronus if anything changes, won't you?"

Harry nodded and pulled Ginny closer to kiss her quickly. Hermione smiled gently at the sight of them. "I love you _both_." Ginny said sincerely after she pulled away from Harry. She squeezed Hermione's shoulder once before ushering her parents and George out of the room.

"Stand up," Hermione told Harry softly as the others left the room. He obliged, and she took out her wand. She frowned for a moment, trying to remember the exact wrist movement, before reciting an incantation and producing a second chair identical to the first. "Chair arms are _not_ comfortable," she said firmly as Harry took a seat.

"Thank you," he said simply. "Been awhile since we've had this happen."

"I'd almost forgotten how horrible it is," Hermione said, sighing as she rested her eyes on Ron's pale, sleeping face. "It's probably worse now that it's been so long. It was such a regular thing when we were in school."

Harry chuckled humorlessly. "It was normally me back in school. The two of you were in there much less."

"No, Ron was in the hospital wing at least…" Hermione paused as she counted on her fingers, "…four times. And that doesn't count him getting splinched, which was just as scary as anything that happened at Hogwarts."

"Four?" Harry questioned. "There was the poisoning, the brain…"

"The broken leg, and the Norbert incident," Hermione finished. "And I was in there plenty of times myself, mind you, and once as a cat!"

Harry laughed at the memory, but stopped instantly as Hermione shot him a scathing look. "Sorry," he said, though he clearly didn't mean it. "How many times do you suppose I was in there?"

"I would be willing to bet I had just as many trips as you did," Hermione said.

"But you don't bet," Harry pointed out.

"No, but if I did, I'm sure I'd win," Hermione said sweetly, managing something nearer to a full smile this time. It faded a bit when she looked back at Ron. She'd been cooking dinner for him when she got Harry's Patronus—he'd been planning to come straight to her flat after his shift so that they could spend the night together. He'd been working the past couple of nights, so they had been looking forward to being truly alone for the first time all week.

Hermione sighed again and turned to Harry, who was watching her cautiously. "He's fine," he reassured her softly. "Chances are the two of you will be doing…whatever it is you do…by tomorrow night."

Hermione rolled her eyes and was just about to scold Harry, but they were interrupted by a loud cough and a knock on the door. "Visiting hours are ending in ten minutes," the gray-haired healer from before informed them.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. Surely they wouldn't make her leave him? But before she could question the healer further, Harry spoke: "That's nice, but we're fine where we are, thanks."

The healer frowned. "I'm sorry sir, but visitors are not allowed—"

"But we're not leaving," Harry insisted, firmly but quietly. "I assure you, we won't be any trouble."

Hermione held her breath, hoping that the healer—Peters, his badge said—would accept Harry's request and move on. As much as she wanted to stay with Ron, she wasn't sure she had the energy to argue.

Peters' frown deepened a little. "It's not in our policy to make exceptions in any circumstances, sir."

"I've never been one for policies," Harry said. "Now, as I said, I don't want to be any _trouble_, sir." Harry's expression was serious, and Hermione surmised that he really could be quite formidable when he had the mind to be.

Peters sighed deeply before nodding his head in defeat. "Very well, Auror Potter. One of my assistants will be in to check on Auror Weasley in a few hours."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said weakly as Healer Peters turned to leave the room. He didn't acknowledge her. "And thank you," Hermione said to Harry, reaching over to take his hand gently. "I don't think I'd be able to sleep properly if I went home anyway."

"You're not going to scold me for essentially using my position against him?" Harry asked shrewdly.

"Not this time," Hermione laughed. "It's not like you to do that."

"Either of you would have done the same, given the situation," Harry pointed out.

Hermione nodded in affirmation before frowning a little. "Your hand is weird."

Harry looked at their intertwined hands before he burst out laughing. "My _hand_ is weird?" he asked, withdrawing the offending body part and examining it closely. "And what's wrong with it, may I ask?"

"I don't know," Hermione muttered embarrassedly, sinking down further into her chair. "Ignore me, I'm a bit worn out from this whole thing."

"_My_ hands are normal," Harry insisted, either oblivious or indifferent to her discomfort, "but you're used to Ron's hands, and _they're_ weird."

"What's wrong with Ron's hands?" Hermione asked indignantly, recalling the way a simple touch from Ron could comfort her…or excite her, depending on the circumstance. She scooted closer to Ron's bed and took the hand nearest to her. It was a bit cold, so she rubbed it with her own hands before bringing her face close to examine it. She smiled as she felt him shift a bit at her touch—she wasn't sure if it was a coincidence, but the idea that he somehow knew she was there comforted her immensely.

"They're normal hands," she concluded after a few moments' examination, throwing Harry a pointed look.

"Nah, they're big and awkward," Harry said. "You just like them because they're attached to Ron."

"You're mad," Hermione concluded, rolling her eyes. She leaned back a little in her chair, but moved it into a position so that she could comfortably keep Ron's hand in both of hers.

"No, the two of you are mad," Harry insisted. "Brilliant, though."

Hermione smiled at him. "How is the wedding planning going?" she asked, eager to change the subject to something of a more positive nature.

"Fine, so far. Ginny's taking care of most of it. I reckon she doesn't trust me with a lot of it," Harry said, laughing lightly.

"Sure she does," Hermione said reassuringly. "Though I can see where she wouldn't need your input on the flowers. Or decorations. Or the dresses, really…"

"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "She said she's chosen her dress, though."

"Yes, I was with her when she did," Hermione replied, smiling at the memory of the youngest Weasley trying on an elegant white gown the week before. She'd looked radiant and had immediately purchased it. Hermione had almost been brought to tears at the sight of her—and Mrs. Weasley had been.

"She won't let me see it," Harry commented, frowning a little.

"Of course not, it's bad luck," Hermione said automatically.

"That's such a stupid superstition," Harry said, shaking his head incredulously.

"It'll be worth it," Hermione said, the grin growing on her face. "I can't wait to see your expression when you see her."

"She chose a good one, then?"

"Yes, she did," Hermione said emphatically, hoping Harry would know that she was talking about more than just the dress. Harry and Ginny deserved every ounce of the happiness they were currently enjoying, and Hermione was overjoyed to be witnessing it.

Harry coughed before changing the topic. "What about you and Ron, then?"

"Oh," Hermione said, brushing her thumb lightly over the back of Ron's hand. "Well, it'll be our turn eventually," she said vaguely. She was hoping "eventually" was a time in the not-so-distant future, of course, but didn't think Harry would want to have a discussion about her feelings toward matrimony.

Harry studied her for a moment before speaking: "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course," Hermione replied automatically.

"I just…I don't think—please don't get too mad at him if he doesn't propose straight away," Harry said carefully.

Hermione simply raised a questioning eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

Harry sighed before saying, "I think he's got the idea in his head that he can't til after my wedding."

"Why would he think that?" Hermione asked bemusedly.

"I don't know, but he made a comment about 'not stealing our thunder' the other day," Harry replied. "Look, he probably doesn't want me telling you this. I just don't want you thinking he doesn't want to marry you or something, because he does. So much that it's a little disgusting, really."

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, squeezing Ron's hand once and wishing he would squeeze back. He didn't, but he did sigh in his sleep and shift his head a little. That would have to be enough for now.

"I know he does," she said softly, shifting her eyes from Ron's face to Harry's. "He and I _do_ talk about these sorts of things now. We're not like we were in school."

Harry sniggered. "I should hope not. Talk about disgusting."

Hermione removed one of her hands from Ron's to smack Harry smartly on the arm before dissolving into giggles of her own. "Thank you anyway," she said a moment later, once they'd both recovered.

"You're welcome," he said sincerely, "but it's as much in my interest as it is yours. I spent seven years of my life watching the two of you make eyes at each other and putting up with your bickering, and I don't want it all to be for naught."

Hermione shot him a grateful smile, and the two settled into a comfortable silence. Hermione dozed off a couple of times in the hours that followed, but she did not relinquish her grip on Ron's hand.

When she drifted back into consciousness after her second nap, she leaned over to check a sleeping Harry's watch. It was just after midnight. She sighed and sat up straighter in her chair, resting her eyes on Ron's face. He wasn't quite as pale now, but he still had several bruises covering the right side of his face. Hermione made a mental note to ask Healer Peters to administer the proper bruise removal paste; quite frankly, she was a little peeved that he hadn't done so already. It wasn't as though it was a revolutionary treatment, surely any healer worth his salt would have some readily on hand…

Hermione's inner berating of the healer came to a quick halt when she was roused from her thoughts by a groaning noise that had undoubtedly come from Ron. He began shifting his body, beginning with his head, then his torso, then his leg, before finally moving his arms and hands. Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, and his eyes flew open as he squeezed back.

"Oh, Ron! Thank goodness!" Hermione cried, moving out of her armchair to take a seat on the edge of his bed. "How are you feeling?"

Ron tried to speak, but could barely manage a croak. He cleared his throat once before finally managing to utter one word: "Terrible." He sounded it, too; his voice was hoarse and low. He winced as he moved one of his hands to his ribs.

"Oh, of course! How silly of me," Hermione said, getting off the bed to shake Harry awake.

"Wha—?" Harry groaned, sitting up suddenly and pushing his glasses up from where they'd slid down his nose.

"Ron's awake. Go get a healer," Hermione instructed briskly before returning to her spot on the bed. Harry obliged immediately, stopping briefly to clap Ron lightly on the shoulder.

"St. Mungo's?" Ron croaked as Hermione began to lovingly trace the features of his face.

"Yes. Your ribs are fractured and you've got a bit of a concussion, but the Healers say you'll be alright," Hermione said matter-of-factly, rubbing her thumb over his jawline.

Understanding flashed in Ron's eyes as the events of the night came back to him. "We were on call…bastard must've cursed me."

"Yes. You were distracted, but Harry shielded you," Hermione replied, choking back tears as she rested her hand on his cheek. "You _can't_ get distracted, Ron, please—"

"Hermione," Ron breathed, bringing one of his hands up to hers so as to keep her hand on his face. He looked at her intensely, as though he was willing her to understand without him having to explain just yet. She met his gaze wordlessly, finally allowing a few tears to fall as she took in the fact that he was alright, he was awake, and he was alive.

Their moment was interrupted when Harry returned, followed shortly by a healer who was much younger and much less severe-looking than Peters. "We'll talk later," Hermione told Ron meaningfully as she slid back into her armchair to give the healer room to operate.

"Auror Weasley, my name is Healer Bruess," the young man said. "I'm just going to check up on you quickly before I administer a couple of potions for the pain. Your ribs and your head are healing, and if all goes well tonight we should have you out of here by mid-day tomorrow. Would you like me to administer a sleeping draught as well?"

"No thanks," Ron replied. "I imagine it won't take much for me to fall back asleep anyway."

"Very well. I'd ask your friends to leave, but I imagine they wouldn't listen regardless," Healer Bruess replied with a smile as he began his examination.

Harry and Hermione sat quietly in their armchairs throughout the procedure, waiting patiently to be left alone so the three of them could talk properly. If the silence in the room was a bit tense, Healer Bruess did his best to ignore it. After about ten minutes, he informed Ron that he would be on-call all night if he experienced any more discomfort. He left after nodding briefly to Harry and Hermione.

"How much did you tell her?" Ron asked Harry without preamble.

"Just the basics. No details. I gave a statement nearly six hours ago, so I imagine the initial paperwork's been filed by now," Harry replied.

"You do know that I'm sitting right here?" Hermione interrupted irritably, but to no avail.

"Thanks for the shield charm, mate," Ron continued, pretending as though he hadn't heard Hermione.

"Sure," Harry replied. "You're feeling alright now, then?"

"My head's pounding a bit, but the potions are helping," Ron said optimistically. "I don't suppose I'll get any time off for this?"

Harry chuckled. "Doubtful. You were off til Tuesday anyway."

"Worth a shot," Ron replied flippantly. "Surprised Mum's not here," he remarked casually.

"She was," Hermione said, determined to insert herself in the conversation. "So were your dad, Ginny, and George. They left a few hours ago; you've been asleep for awhile. I imagine they'll be back here first thing tomorrow."

"Speaking of which, I think I'm going to head over to the Burrow," Harry said suddenly. "I'd be surprised if they're asleep. They'll want to know that you're awake and doing alright." As much as Hermione knew he was speaking the truth, she was also quite sure that he'd been looking for an out in order to give her some time alone with Ron, and for that, she was grateful. After gripping Ron's shoulder briefly and pecking Hermione on the cheek, he was gone.

"Will you help me sit up? I can't look at you properly like this," Ron said as soon as Harry had left the room.

Hermione shook her head. "You should be resting," she replied. However, she raised her wand and muttered an incantation to widen the bed just a little, making just the right amount of space for her to slide in next to him.

"Even better," he said with a smile, turning his head to face her as she lay next to him on her side. "You're not really mad, are you?" he asked once she'd settled.

"Of course not," Hermione said dismissively, "but you had me worried sick! I know cases like these can be horrible to witness, but letting your guard down—"

Ron sighed heavily. "You didn't see it, Hermione. It was worse than anything I've seen since the war. Things like that…they don't sit well with me."

"They don't sit well with anybody, but it does no good losing your head," Hermione insisted. "Ron, I can't stand the idea of losing you, and I might have done if the man who attacked you had the slightest clue what he was doing!" She sniffed loudly, feeling tears rising to her eyes once again.

"Hey, don't cry. I'm fine," Ron said reassuringly, lifting a hand to her face and brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"I know," she replied, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. "It's just scary, getting Harry's Patronus like that, not knowing what's going on…"

"I'm sorry," Ron said, looping one arm around her gently and drawing her in closer. She wrapped one of her arms lightly around his torso, careful not to touch any of his ribs. Though they were likely close to done healing by now, she didn't want to jeopardize his recovery.

"Suppose it's not really your fault," she replied quietly, resting her face against his chest. They fell into silence for a few moments before Ron spoke suddenly:

"I can't stand the thought of losing you, either. That's why I got distracted."

Hermione shifted her head to look at him again. "Explain," she prompted.

Ron sighed deeply, a dark look filling his eyes. "He was torturing her. The suspect was—and it was his _wife_. What sort of sick fuck does that, Hermione? I mean blimey, you trust and love someone enough to marry them and what, they repay you with the bloody Cruciatus Curse?"

Hermione gasped. "Oh no, is she…?"

"She was okay, I think. Someone got her out straight away…Williams or Erickson, I think. That was when he attacked us. But I—I couldn't think, after seeing that…after hearing it." Ron shuddered before continuing. "It took me back three years ago, you know? To Malfoys'…you've got to understand, love, I just couldn't…" he broke off, wiping his eyes fiercely with one of his hands. No moisture had escaped, but Hermione could see tears building in his eyes.

"Ron," Hermione whispered tenderly, leaning over to kiss his forehead, then each of his cheeks, then his lips. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault," he replied wearily. "It just doesn't make sense, you know? What that scum did to you…how could he do that to someone he was meant to be in love with? What could possibly have possessed him…I mean, if we hadn't got there when we did…" he trailed off again, clearly not wanting to consider what the end of that sentence would have been.

"You're a good man, Ron Weasley," Hermione said firmly, tilting his chin so that he was forced to meet her eyes. "I can't say that about every man. You just need to make sure men like _him_ are kept far away from innocent people."

"And I can't do that unless I keep my head," he finished, sighing. "I know. I'm sure I'll be better prepared next time."

"Better equipped to handle it, at any rate," Hermione replied.

Ron nodded once before continuing in a strong voice, "I will never hurt you, Hermione. And I will never let anyone else hurt you either."

"I know," Hermione replied sincerely. "I've never doubted that for a second, Ron."

"I'm sure that bastard's wife thought the same thing, though," Ron said.

"I don't think that tonight was an isolated incident for them," Hermione said gently. "People like that…they don't just snap, to my knowledge."

"Either way, it's shit," Ron said emphatically. "It's days like today that I kind of hate my job. Glad we got him in Azkaban, but it's a hell of a lot easier to live in ignorance."

"What's easy is rarely what's right," Hermione countered, "and I'm proud to say that you've always done what's right."

"Not always," Ron muttered.

"In the end, yes, you have," Hermione said firmly. She'd forgiven his mistakes long ago, and she wouldn't let him continue to berate himself for them. She'd made the mistake of bringing it up once, and it was one of her biggest regrets—one she still felt as though she had to atone for.

"At any rate, I promise I won't let myself get distracted again," Ron said, bringing about a welcome change of subject.

"I'm holding you to that," Hermione responded. "We've always said we've got the rest of our lives, and I'm intending to make that a very long time."

"So am I," Ron declared before leaning in to give her a chaste but lingering kiss. "I love you."

"I love you," she replied in kind as she moved to rest her head against his chest again. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"

"Not in the least," he responded, wrapping both of his arms around her tightly. "Just watch the ribs."

Hermione nodded affirmatively. "Rest now."

"Rest," Ron agreed. Within minutes, the two fell into a slumber so peaceful that even the gruff Healer Peters did not have the heart to wake them in the morning. George Weasley, however, had no qualms whatsoever—and naturally, he spent the rest of the morning in a full body-bind, courtesy of Hermione.

* * *

A/N: Kind of an abrupt ending, but it is what it is.

Well, wasn't that cheerful? The idea for a hospital scene has been around since the very early stages of planning this fic, but the nature of the case was something that developed later. It partially bloomed out of the fact that so many Ron haters think he would be abusive—but as those of us who are sane know, it is actually quite the opposite. The next few chapters are going to be much, much, _much_ lighter—and a lot of fun. I'm really looking forward to the next few. Anyway, please let me know what you thought! I hope you all have a wonderful day. :)


	14. Date

A/N: Internet hugs to all, and to all a good night. Also – go watch A Very Potter Senior Year.

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

* * *

"The Last Double Date—At Least, So Ron Hopes"

10 August 2001

"This is the first Friday night I've been off in more than a month, Hermione," Ron whined as he pulled a pair of jeans off of the stack of clean laundry that lay in the corner of his room. "We should be _naked_ by now."

Hermione didn't look up from her book as she responded, "Continue down that road, Ron, and there won't be any of that naked business for quite some time."

"I just don't know why we're doing this. Are you expecting to have fun?" Ron asked as he threw his work robes in the corner that was housing his dirty laundry.

"I'm sure we'll have a nice time," Hermione said evasively as she carefully placed a bookmark in the novel she was reading and set it on Ron's bedside table.

"That's convincing," Ron muttered sarcastically as he turned to the mirror to finish dressing himself.

"Didn't you like Christine and Jeremy?" Hermione asked, getting up from his bed and moving toward the door. "And pick up your clothes, by the way, will you?"

"They were fine," Ron said distractedly, obediently waving his wand to move the dirty clothes into a basket and the clean ones onto his bed.

"Well then, tonight will be nice," Hermione declared. Ron simply rolled his eyes as he followed her out the door.

He had only met Hermione's cousin Christine and her husband Jeremy once before, on the first Christmas Eve after the war. Since then, Christine and Jeremy had always been traveling for the holidays and unable to make it to the Grangers' holiday party. But this weekend, they were staying in London for some conference he hadn't bothered to get the name of, and apparently Christine and Hermione had decided that they simply _must_ see each other. Ron didn't remember the couple in question well enough to have a real opinion of them, but he knew that he would much rather spend tonight in bed with Hermione than out with strangers.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Ron asked as they reached the landing, looking in the pile of shoes by the door for a suitable pair of trainers.

"We're meeting them at a pub; it's just a short walk from here," Hermione answered, stepping out of the way as the front door swung open to reveal their disgruntled-looking best friend.

"Hi, Harry!" Ron said cheerily. "We're headed out for the night, you and Ginny care to join us?" he asked, ignoring Hermione's glare. The outing would surely be more bearable if people they actually knew tagged along.

"Can't," Harry said shortly, kicking off his shoes and throwing them in the pile, which did nothing to appease Hermione. "Ginny and I are doing the invitations tonight."

"Why? You aren't getting married for months," Ron complained.

"They're having a wedding, Ron, not a dinner party," Hermione said exasperatedly, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him out the still open door. "We'll see you later, Harry!"

"I suppose it's a muggle pub we're going to," Ron grumbled, sliding his hand so that he was holding Hermione's—the vice-like grip she'd had on his wrist simply wouldn't do. They looked to make sure there were no muggles watching before stepping out onto the street. 12 Grimmauld Place was still under a Fidelius Charm, which had caused Harry and Ron several awkward situations in the past when they'd walked in or out of the house in the middle of the day, forgetting that to everyone else, they'd seemed to appear or disappear into thin air.

"Well, we can't very well take them to the Leaky, can we?" Hermione shot back, though she gripped his hand in return. Ron took this as a sign that she wasn't _really_ upset with him for his pessimism.

"S'pose not," Ron replied. "You know, I honestly can't remember a thing about them."

"Well, Christine teaches in a primary school, and Jeremy's a doctor, so they're quite well off. They've been married…four or five years now, I think. I didn't go to their wedding, I was at school…they haven't got any kids yet; they got married very young, you know. Well, she was young; Christine's only a year older than I am. Jeremy's a bit older," Hermione said, walking a little closer to Ron as they passed a rowdy group of university students. "Honestly, it's not even eight o'clock yet," she muttered.

"What are they like, though?" Ron pressed, ignoring the echoing catcalls. "I don't remember much from that Christmas; your grandmum and dad were really all I could focus on."

"Christine and Jeremy are a bit quieter, I suppose," Hermione answered, "at least by comparison."

"So what are they like?" Ron implored. He'd gained a lot of patience over the years regarding Hermione's habit of not _really_ answering his questions.

"Well, to be honest I don't know Jeremy very well. I've only met him a handful of times," Hermione said as they turned left at the end of the road, "but Christine and I got on well when we were younger. We both preferred books to chatter, so we'd often spend holiday parties reading together instead of talking to our relatives."

"So she's just like you, then?" Ron asked, trying to decide whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.

"She was always a bit less bossy, I suppose," Hermione admitted.

"So you admit you're bossy, then?" Ron grinned widely.

"When I was ten, yes," Hermione replied warningly. Ron decided it was best to swallow his retort if he wanted any chance of ducking out of the night's events early. "Ah, here it is, I told you it was a short walk."

The pub was a bit dodgy looking, which caused Ron to drop Hermione's hand and instead walk behind her, placing his hands possessively on her waist as they entered. The ceiling was low and the place was crowded with what Ron could only assume were escaped convicts, based on the look of them. He squeezed Hermione's waist tighter as she led them toward an empty table in the back.

"Great place, this," Ron said sarcastically as they sat down on the side facing the door. "Tell me, have you ever stepped foot in here before?"

"No. I just knew that it was close," Hermione said defensively. "What's wrong with it, exactly?"

Ron simply raised an eyebrow in response, to which she stuck out her tongue in protest. Unable to resist, he leaned in and pecked her on the lips. She wrinkled her nose, but smiled all the same. He sighed happily. Maybe he was making too big a deal of this, he thought as he smiled back at her; at least this Friday, he was with her instead of stuck at the office like the past few weeks.

"Hermione!" a voice called out over the din, causing Ron and Hermione to snap out of their momentary trance.

"Christine, Jeremy! You remember Ron?" Hermione waved as she called back to the couple approaching them. She stood up out of her chair and nudged Ron to do the same, and hugs and handshakes were exchanged all around. Ron called over the nearest employee and ordered four of whatever drinks were the special on Fridays; he was sure he'd need it soon enough.

Christine was petite and blonde; although she was wearing what looked like uncomfortably tall heels, she was still an inch shorter than Hermione, who wasn't exactly tall herself. Jeremy wasn't terribly big either; he came up a solid half a foot below Ron and seemed to already have a bit of a receding hairline. Ron was only a bit ashamed to admit that even being in Jeremy's presence made him feel quite confident in his own physical appearance, which was not something he was often assured of.

As the group settled down to the table with their drinks and the greetings died down, a bit of an awkward silence fell. "So how have you been?" Hermione asked a moment later in an unnaturally enthusiastic voice.

"Oh, we've been doing very well," Christine said politely, taking Jeremy's hand atop the table and fixing him with a nauseating gaze. "We love to travel, you know, and we've just been to Venice. It was _so_ romantic."

"Oh, how lovely!" Hermione gushed. "I wish we had the time to travel more often, but our jobs are really quite demanding."

"We went to Australia after Christmas," Ron pointed out.

"Of course," Hermione said, "and that was our first holiday in ages!"

"What do the two of you do that keeps you so busy? I don't think I've seen you since you left school, Hermione," Christine said, again taking an overly well-mannered tone that Ron found a bit unnerving.

"I work in the legal department of an animals' rights organization, and Ron works for the police," Hermione answered, spouting off the white lies they told all her muggle relatives.

"Oh, I can certainly see how that would hinder travel! I get summers off, so it's significantly easier for us to get away," Christine said, again beaming at Jeremy, who had yet to speak a word. "We're doing this as much as possible while we're young; we're going to start trying for children soon, so it'll be a bit more difficult then, I imagine!"

"Congratulations, that's quite exciting!" Hermione enthused. Ron, on the other hand, was a bit appalled to receive such personal information from someone he considered to be a perfect stranger. Though Jeremy's face was hard to read, Ron reckoned he looked a bit uncomfortable as well. Women were barmy.

"Are the two of you trying yet?" Christine asked, in a manner that suggested she thought she was being courteous. Ron nearly choked on his drink.

"Not yet," Hermione said as she rubbed Ron's back soothingly. "We'd prefer to get married first, you see."

"Oh, you aren't married yet? I'm sorry, I should have known; you aren't wearing a ring," Christine apologized.

"Well, I'd have told the two of you if I'd got married, of course," Hermione said warmly. "I wouldn't have neglected to invite my favorite cousin to my wedding!" As far as Ron knew, this wasn't much of a compliment considering Hermione's only other cousin was someone she described as "a misogynistic prick," but again, he kept his mouth shut.

"Of course, how silly of me!" Christine replied kindly. "It's just you've been together what, three or four years now? Jeremy and I could hardly wait; we got married hardly a year after we met!"

"We wanted to establish our careers first," Hermione explained. "Steady source of income, and all that."

"I wouldn't want to give this one a shoddy ring; she's too important," Ron added in a determinedly lighthearted tone, feeling inexplicably as though he had to defend himself.

Ron couldn't help but cast his mind to the decidedly _not _shoddy ring that was hidden in the drawer of the otherwise useless desk in his room. He'd magicked the drawer in question shut just to be on the safe side; only he knew how to open it, when the time was right. It had been sitting there for over a month now, but he opened it at least once a week to check on it. It was a lovely ring—three relatively small but brilliant diamonds set on a white gold band. He'd even had the inside engraved with their initials, which was something the jeweler had probably suggested in the interest of making more money, but Ron had quite liked the idea of personalizing it. Anyway, it wouldn't do to lose something that valuable, especially considering what its purpose would be.

"That's sweet of you, Ron," Christine gushed. "Jeremy was the same way." She held up her left hand for them to examine—on her ring finger was possibly the largest diamond Ron had ever seen. He wondered briefly if it weighed her hand down to wear it.

"That's lovely," Hermione said, though Ron could tell from her expression that her thoughts were not far removed from his. "So Jeremy, what type of doctor are you? I know you've told me, but I'm afraid my memory's a bit lacking right now."

"I'm a neurologist," Jeremy answered, speaking for the first time all night. His voice was a bit high and nasally, and it was all Ron could do not to laugh.

"That's impressive!" Hermione said. "I've always wondered about neurology; I've read a couple of books over the years in my spare time…"

The group settled into a borderline-comfortable pattern of awkward small talk. Christine and Hermione did most of the talking, neither of them switching from their overly polite tones. Ron added a comment when he thought it necessary, and Jeremy spoke only when spoken to. A bit surprisingly, Christine was the only one drinking much; Hermione rarely did, of course, and Ron had decided after his first sip that muggle drinks were rubbish and refused to have any more. Jeremy had barely touched his either, but Ron wouldn't be surprised if he would only drink when told to do so.

Somewhere around Christine's third refill, Ron began to lose track of the conversation. Not that he'd ever been paying much attention in the first place, but it had become progressively more nonsensical as time went on. Instead, he began to contemplate exit strategies; he had come up with three possible excuses to get himself and Hermione away and two possible routes to the door when he was roused from his thoughts by a comment from Christine, whose voice was getting progressively louder as she consumed more alcohol.

"I'm telling you, Hermione, you don't know what you're missing with this marriage business."

Ron couldn't help but groan. If he heard another word about getting married he swore was liable to move to Belize; didn't people realize that he would propose when and how he damn well pleased? These people were putting ideas in her head, and he wanted it to be _his_ idea when it happened—he didn't want it to look like he was simply fulfilling somebody's expectations. He was angry now, and was just about to open his mouth and say something undoubtedly self-destructive, but luckily, Hermione beat him to it.

"I'm sure it's lovely," she said diplomatically, reaching for and squeezing Ron's hand under the table, causing him to calm down a little.

"Yes, but—" Christine looked at Jeremy furtively before leaning across the table and stage-whispering, "Ron's a good-looking bloke! How have you kept your hands off him?" She pulled back, giggling as she went.

A look at Hermione told Ron that she was just as dumbfounded as he was. Jeremy was frustratingly impassive; Ron was almost one hundred percent sure now that he was one of those robot thingys from the film Hermione had let him see the week before.

Christine wasn't done, though. Leaning close to her husband this time, she continued in a low voice, "And Jemmy, if you were Ron, surely you wouldn't be able to resist Hermione?"

Jeremy coughed awkwardly, but Christine seemed to take this as affirmation. "There! See, you ought not wait any longer! It's wonderful, it is."

Ron and Hermione sat there in silence for a moment. Ron could feel himself reddening under Christine's eager gaze. He could think of nothing to say; he certainly wasn't going to tell this woman that the waiting boat had sailed two years ago. Jeremy coughed again. "I think you've had a bit much to drink, dear," he told his wife softly, gently pushing her glass away from her.

"You don't say," Ron muttered under his breath. Hermione laughed uncomfortably.

"The marriage bed is a beautiful place," Christine continued serenely, completely oblivious to those around her.

"So we have to get going," Ron said loudly, standing up abruptly. He was relieved to see Hermione copying his actions. "Lovely to see you," he continued shortly, giving a mock salute as he guided his girlfriend toward the exit, giving her time to say no more than "safe travels" before they made their escape.

"That was the weirdest fucking experience of my life," Ron said once they finally made it around a group of people, all of whom smelled like an assortment of the muggle drugs he'd once confiscated off a wizard in Bristol.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I had no idea she would be that…unhinged," Hermione replied, taking his hand as they began to walk back toward Grimmauld Place.

"You should have. Your relatives are _not_ normal, Hermione," Ron said emphatically. "I've got trouble believing any of them are real people."

"Well, she was perfectly nice before she started getting those refills," Hermione replied defensively.

"And he was downright creepy," Ron insisted.

"I don't remember him being quite so soft-spoken," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Or maybe I'm just used to a man that voices all his opinions."

"You like it better this way," Ron teased.

"I do," Hermione affirmed, squeezing his hand.

They walked in comfortable silence for awhile. She was seemingly lost in thought, and Ron took the opportunity to take frequent glances in her direction. The dim streetlights cast a pretty glow on her face, and her curls were particularly boisterous from the humidity of the crowded pub. Ron sighed; sometimes he couldn't believe that someone like her was with someone like him. It wasn't that he was ugly; it's just that she deserved the best, and he was far from it.

_She deserves to be someone's wife._ Perhaps she would reprimand him if she knew what he was thinking, or maybe she'd call him sexist and inform him that women didn't need to be wives, but Ron didn't particularly care. The biggest part of getting married was being loved, forever, and she deserved that. And for whatever reason, she seemed to want to be his wife. _Now I just have to get my head out of my arse and ask her already._ If only it was that simple.

"I'm sorry I'm such a shit boyfriend," Ron said conversationally as they rounded the last corner, needing to say something regarding the thoughts in his head but not wanting to reveal all just yet.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and her face fell immediately. "What are you talking about?"

Ron hesitated. "Nothing, forget I said it."

"Ron, you're a wonderful boyfriend!" Hermione insisted, turning so she could wrap her arms around his torso. "What's brought this on?"

"Really, it's nothing," Ron said hastily, returning her embrace comfortingly. "Just in general, you know."

"I don't understand why you insist on tearing yourself down," Hermione reprimanded sadly.

"It's really nothing, Hermione," Ron said firmly before kissing the top of her head, hoping she would drop the subject. He knew he shouldn't have said anything.

"Okay," she said reluctantly, pulling away and giving him a searching look.

"I just—I love you," Ron declared, taking her hand again and leading her toward number twelve. "I don't ever want you to doubt that, you know?"

"But why would I doubt it?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I haven't, not since the first time you said it."

Ron looked at her quizzically. "I think I was still with Lavender the first time I said it, wasn't I?"

"The first time you said it and meant it," Hermione amended as they neared the steps.

"Well, I meant it that time too," Ron confessed with a grin.

Hermione just smiled widely at him in response. They'd reached the steps now; looking around briefly and not seeing anyone, they climbed to the top step. Ron tapped his wand in the right pattern, and the door opened for them.

"I'm not done asking what you're on about, though," Hermione insisted as they took their shoes off in the entryway.

"I'm really not on about anything," Ron replied impatiently. "Please just drop it."

Hermione scowled. "I hate it when you shut me out."

"I'm not," Ron claimed loudly. Out of habit, he glanced at the empty portrait frame that Mrs. Black had once occupied. It had been three years since Harry had managed to drive her out for good (though he wouldn't tell anyone how he'd done it), but Ron still half expected her to scream every time he came through the doorway.

"Look, I'm not trying to shut you out," Ron said more gently, placing his hands on Hermione's upper arms and looking her in the eyes. "It's just that it's really nothing this time. A passing thought. Okay?"

"Okay," Hermione said simply, though she didn't look entirely convinced. Still, she stood on her tiptoes and gave him a lingering kiss. Before he could deepen it, though, she pulled away and tugged on his hands. "I'm hungry; we didn't eat at all during that ordeal."

"So you admit it was a bad idea?" Ron teased, following her toward the kitchen.

"Yes, your idea was much better in retrospect," Hermione admitted, turning around to give him a cheeky grin. She would be the end of him, she would.

In the kitchen, they found Ginny hard at work with hundreds of invitations scattered about the table. Harry was sat at the other end, snoring loudly atop a stack of envelopes. His head shot up comically as Ron slammed the kitchen door loudly behind him.

"Getting a lot done, eh mate?" Ron asked, whacking him on the back of the head as he made his way to the cupboards.

"Harry, really—" Hermione began her reproach, but Ginny interrupted her.

"Don't bother; he's useless anyway," she declared, looking up from the long list of wedding guests she'd been poring over.

"I can't win with this wedding business," Harry complained. Ron laughed as he began to prepare some sandwiches for himself and Hermione, who had taken a seat at the table and begun to help Ginny sort through the invitations.

"Sure you can," Ginny said, smirking in Harry's direction. "You get to marry me when all's said and done, and you've hardly got to do anything between now and then, really."

"Then why do you make him sit there while you do it?" Ron asked.

"He's nice to look at," Ginny quipped, causing Ron to grimace.

"It looks as though you're almost done, at least," Hermione said as she finished reading Ginny's list. "Are you really considering inviting Rita Skeeter, though?"

"She'll probably find a way in anyway," Harry said dejectedly. "At least this way we'll know and we can keep an eye on her."

"Fair point. Oh, thank you Ron," Hermione said, smiling up at him as he handed her a plate with her sandwich on it. He smiled back before taking the seat across from her at the table to eat his own supper.

"So how was seeing your cousin?" Ginny asked Hermione as she stacked the invitations into semi-organized piles.

"Awful," Ron answered. "She was a lunatic and the husband probably wasn't human."

"Ron!" Ginny admonished, but Hermione shook her head.

"He's not being too terribly harsh, really," Hermione admitted. "It was a rather uncomfortable experience. I honestly don't remember them being quite so…"

"Mental?" Ron supplied. "Least she thought I was good-looking, though," he added as an after-thought, grinning smugly in Hermione's direction.

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry made a confused noise that went largely ignored.

"Yes, you're very pretty, Ron," Hermione said sarcastically as she took a large bite to finish off her sandwich and stood up to take her plate to the sink. "But she'd not have said it if she hadn't been sloshed."

Harry and Ginny snickered. "Oi!" Ron shouted indignantly. "First off, I'm not _pretty_—"

"No, you're not," Ginny interrupted rudely. "So why did Hermione's cousin think you were? Was her husband a troll?"

"No, not nearly tall enough. He did have a receding hairline, though," Hermione answered cheekily, but she made her way over to Ron and kissed him lightly on the cheek, and he knew it was all in jest.

"Well, I've got to be off," Ginny said apologetically as she finished sorting the last of the invitations. "Mum made me promise I'd come home tonight. I expect you'll all be there bright and early for the party we're not having?"

"How'd you find out?" Harry asked, standing up from the table and crossing the room toward his fiancée. Ginny's twentieth birthday was the next day, and Mum had insisted on throwing a party despite Ginny's protests that there was quite enough else to be getting on with, considering the wedding was to happen in four short months.

"Well, you just confirmed it," Ginny said, shrugging. "You can come with me, if you'd like. Mum would probably try to make you sleep in Ron's room, though."

Ron snorted. "We haven't kept to our own rooms at home since we were seventeen."

"You don't mind if I go, then?" Harry asked Ron, with only a little uncertainty mixed into his sarcasm.

"Well, I suppose you are marrying her," Ron joked. "We'll be there tomorrow morning at about ten, for strictly unrelated reasons."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up Ron's plate from the table for him. "Good night, you two. And happy early birthday, Ginny."

Harry and Ginny collected their invitations and bade their goodnights, and at last Ron and Hermione were alone. "I really am sorry tonight was so unpleasant, Ron," Hermione said as they made their way out of the kitchen and began to climb the stairs. "I just thought it would be a nice thing to do, you know, as a couple."

"There are nicer things we can do as a couple," Ron replied, rolling his eyes, "but it's fine, really."

"I just meant that couples go out with other couples all the time," Hermione clarified. "That's why I thought it might be a nice thing to do."

"We go out with Harry and Ginny plenty," Ron said, pushing open the door to his room.

"I know. It's going to be different now, though, that they're getting married," Hermione insisted. She quickly crossed the room to the wardrobe, stripping off various outer articles of clothing as she went.

"They'll still be Harry and Ginny, though," Ron said confusedly.

"Yes, I suppose they will. Never mind," Hermione said, her voice muffled as she searched through her section of the wardrobe for something to wear to bed. The fact that she was wearing only a bra and her unbuttoned jeans was distracting Ron quite a bit.

Ron sighed heavily as he sat down on the bed, knocking the clothes he'd left there earlier onto the floor carelessly. He wanted to know what the hell she was actually on about, but stopped himself from asking so directly after remembering their conversation earlier. If he was allowed to take back some of his stupider thoughts, she should be allowed the same—although Ron was quite sure Hermione never really had stupid thoughts, per se. "You sure?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes," she said, emerging from the closet with one of his t-shirts. "Guess we've both had some silly thoughts tonight," she said playfully, echoing his reflections.

"Well, the silliest one is the idea that you'll need that," Ron replied, gesturing toward the shirt. "Now get over here, will you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, she put the shirt back in the wardrobe and walked toward him in a way that was probably unintentionally seductive. "I never could keep my hands off of you, of course," she said, winking exaggeratedly as she stopped inches in front of him.

Ron laughed happily and wrapped his arms around her torso. He turned his head to rest his cheek against her bare stomach, closing his eyes contentedly as he felt her fingers in his hair. After several relaxing moments, he turned his head and tilted it up, pulling her down so that he could capture her lips with his own.

"I love you," he murmured against her mouth.

"I love you," she repeated in kind before kissing him deeply, thereby making all conversation negligible.

Ron's last coherent thought before the rest of their clothes came off was of the ring that was, unbeknownst to Hermione, waiting in the desk drawer just a few steps from his bed. He knew he was going to marry this woman; now, all he had to do was find the courage to ask her properly.

* * *

A/N: Hmm. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this one, to be honest. I looked in my notes a week ago because this was one of the chapters I hadn't written yet, and all I had down for it was "last something cute – summer." I didn't really help myself on that one, did I? The next two in particular are both much better developed, thankfully.

Just to clarify a little: yes, the "when is Ron going to propose already?" storyline is meant to be getting a little tiresome. They're taking everything fairly slowly, I think, as they did in the books. Also, since we didn't see Hermione's thoughts here, her line of thinking in the last bit was also about getting married, how it changes things, etc…so basically, they both want to get married, and Ron needs to ask already. Let me know what you think, and fret not – he's got the ring, so it can't be much longer now. ;) Oh – and, here's a link to a picture of the ring I based Hermione's off of, if you're interested - just take out the spaces: www . rothemcollection productcart / pc / Classic-Trellis-Three-Stone-Diamond-Engagement-Ring-0-80ct-tw-p649 . htm


	15. Nuptials

A/N: Thank you all, as always, for being awesome. :) This story is 75% complete after this chapter, which is a little terrifying but also exciting. A bit of a warning about this chapter – it's got a ridiculous amount of sentimental cuteness. Continue at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. I do run a Harry Potter blog on tumblr though, so that's something.

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"The Last Wedding before Their Own—or, the Sappiest Chapter of All Sappy Chapters"

22 December 2001

Ron shook out his hair as he entered the tent, feeling more like a mangy dog than a dignified Auror. He grumbled to himself as he shook the snow off his shoes, running a hand through his hair at the same time to make sure there were no flakes remaining. It wouldn't do to look like he had dandruff, after all. Lastly, he brushed the remaining snow off his dress robes. Leave it to his bloody sister to get married in a fucking blizzard. He sighed heavily as he made his way toward the back of the tent. He knew Harry would be waiting behind the makeshift stage, in the same place he'd been hiding for the past hour.

Perhaps it wasn't quite a blizzard outside, Ron supposed. Really it was more of a light dusting, but still—snow was nice for Christmas, not for weddings. As Ron made his way through the crowd that had assembled for the event, he checked his pockets for the thousandth time in the past hour—it wouldn't do to lose the rings, after all. This best man business was more trouble than it was worth. Quite frankly, he couldn't wait to make Harry return the favor. After he finally asked Hermione, that was…

He cast his thoughts briefly to the desk drawer in his bedroom that hid a ring he considered far more important than the two he was safeguarding now, if he were being honest. He hadn't told anyone it was there yet. Everyone was already hounding on them to get married, and Ron did not particularly want to draw any more attention to the situation. He wanted to marry Hermione on his own terms, thank you very much. Mr. Granger probably had some inkling, though; Ron had called him on the telly-phone last week to arrange a time to meet with him. The Grangers were abroad for the holidays this year, but he was set to have lunch alone with Hermione's father the first week of January. The prospect of this rather terrified him, but if he was going to do the thing, he was going to do it properly—and that included asking for her father's blessing.

Ron's private thoughts dissipated immediately when he finally reached Harry's hiding spot behind the stage. Quite frankly, Ron hadn't seen Harry looking quite this tense since the war. He was pacing back and forth at a slightly alarming rate, and he was sweating so profusely Ron might have thought he was Lucius Malfoy at a meeting of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, which, thanks to Hermione, was an actual organization within the ministry. Though she was no longer hell-bent on freeing house elves, she'd be damned if she allowed any of them to endure mistreatment—and Ron absolutely loved her for it. And for a bunch of other reasons, too, but all the same.

"I know she's about as pleasant as an acromantula sometimes, but honestly mate, you're the one that asked her to marry you," Ron said as he approached his best friend, hoping to lighten the mood. He was rewarded only with a thin, strained smile from Harry.

"You've got the rings?" Harry asked shortly.

"Of course," Ron replied calmly, taking the box out of his pocket to prove it. "Relax, will you? You're going to send yourself to an early death at this rate."

"It'd be fitting, as I'm meant to have died at least ten times over by now," Harry joked, though he still seemed to be rather on edge.

"Well, pull yourself together while you can," Ron advised. "Mum sent me to tell you we're starting in five minutes."

Harry nodded absentmindedly. "Have you talked to Ginny today?"

"Briefly," Ron replied. "She's turned into a girl for the day, fussing over her hair and the like."

Harry snorted, finally seeming to relax a little. "She's always been a girl, sorry to tell you."

"That's the theory, but you can keep it to yourself, thanks," Ron quipped. "She's excited, though, I can tell."

Harry grinned again. "So am I, but it doesn't stop me from being nervous as hell."

Ron laughed. "I'd take this piss out of you some more if I didn't know I'd be the same."

"Soon, yeah?" Harry asked, a hint of a serious tone peeking out beneath his laughter.

"I've got the ring, just gotta give it to her," Ron replied, feeling a strange sense of relief after casually sharing his secret with his best friend. "You'll get to give this best man shite a try soon enough."

"Great," Harry said. "I owe you anyway, after that stag night." They both grimaced as they remembered how embarrassingly drunk they'd got. Though they couldn't remember a whole lot of the night itself, the morning after had come with hangovers of epic proportions. Everyone had to stay at Neville's, since nobody wanted to face their wives or girlfriends, almost all of whom had gathered at Grimmauld Place for the night.

"Looking forward to it," Ron said. "I've got to get back out there, walk Hermione in and all that."

"Go. I'll be fine," Harry said seriously, looking far more relaxed than he had been, though still not entirely worry-free. Ron appraised him for a moment before throwing an arm around him for a brief hug.

"You know there's nobody I'd rather have marry my sister, yeah?" he asked gruffly when they pulled away a few seconds later.

"Right," Harry said. "So long as we keep our _personal_ business to ourselves, yeah?"

"You got it, Potter," Ron grinned, throwing him a mock salute before setting off for the tent entrance once again. Thankfully, Hermione, who was serving as the maid of honor, was waiting just inside, so he did not have to go back out into the snow.

"You look fantastic," Ron told Hermione as he took his place beside her. She smiled prettily up at him as he took in her well-fitted scarlet dress and elegant up-do. The last time he'd seen her, just under an hour ago, she'd been sporting pyjamas and a frazzled plait. Of course, he thought she looked utterly fuckable either way, but it was still an amazing feat.

"Thank you," she said, breaking through his thoughts. "Have you been to see Harry?"

"He was pacing like a mad man, but I think I calmed him down a bit," Ron replied. "And Ginny?"

"Nervous but excited. She'll be along in a moment; she's just with your parents right now," Hermione answered. "This is really it, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," Ron said absently, his eyes taking in the impressive crowd that was gathered under the tent, waiting for the ceremony to start. There were Hogwarts classmates, fellow Aurors, and of course, a large section of Weasleys. "I dunno that it's hit me quite yet."

"After last night, it all seems much more real," Hermione said quietly. Ron nodded in agreement—they'd accompanied Harry to Godric's Hollow last night to visit his parents. They'd stood far enough back to give him some privacy, but there had been plenty of tears and hugs all around. Harry visited Godric's Hollow around Christmas every year, and it was never a lighthearted affair. But this year, the intensity had escalated, perhaps because the experience was a very real reminder that so many people would not be attending the wedding, including two people that should have been guests of honor.

"Absolutely," Ron said, slipping an arm around Hermione's shoulders and rubbing gently. "I guess it's just strange; my best friend and my little sister are both getting married, and to each other. I knew it'd happen, but I dunno…" he trailed off, not entirely sure where his train of thought was going anymore.

Hermione laughed lightly. "I suppose it's a bit different in your case." Just then, she turned to him on her tiptoes and kissed him quickly on the lips.

"What was that for?" Ron asked, grinning widely.

"I don't know. I just felt like it," Hermione replied happily, shrugging.

"What was that? You don't _know_?" Ron teased gently.

"Hush, you," Hermione said, though there was no real admonishment in her tone.

They were interrupted, then, as Ginny appeared at the entrance, no snow covering her figure due to Mum and Dad's shield charms, which had protected her on her walk from the house. Ron could have kicked himself for not thinking of that particular trick earlier.

"I think we're about ready to start," Mum said anxiously. "Now where's George, he's meant to walk me down the aisle…" She trailed off as she disappeared again into the crowd.

"You look lovely, Ginny," Hermione gushed, rushing forward to hug the bride.

"Alright, Gin?" Ron asked, taking in his sister's appearance. She was glowing, she really was. Her red hair was striking in comparison to her pale skin and white gown. She'd chosen a dress with a simple design, but the skirt seemed to sparkle radiantly.

"As I'll ever be," Ginny replied with a smile. "How's Harry?"

"The same," Ron said simply.

"I remember my wedding day," Dad reminisced fondly. "I was hardly eighteen at the time. Chugged some butterbeer before walking down the aisle to ease the nerves. Didn't do a thing, of course, but I wasn't about to have anything stronger for fear of the bride."

Ron roared with laughter, and Ginny tutted mockingly in a remarkable impression of Mum. Hermione seemed torn between amusement and reprimand.

"And how was it, Dad?" Ginny asked, semi-seriously.

"Brilliant, once I got through the vows without stammering," he replied with a chuckle. "It seems silly now, to be terrified of a ceremony. It's been more than thirty years since I married your mum, and really, the thousands of ordinary days since then have meant far more in the end."

They stood in thoughtful silence for only a moment before Mum came back, dragging George along in her wake. "I've cued the band to begin anytime they're ready, and then we're off down the aisle! Harry's been told to step out when the music starts. Oh, Ginny dear! My little girl, getting married!" Mum pulled her daughter into an embrace.

"Mum, for such a reasonable and intelligent woman, you really can lose your head sometimes. Nothing on you, Ginny, you look lovely," George said, punching his sister on the arm as though she weren't a twenty year old woman in a wedding dress. Ron snickered, but thankfully Mum either did not hear them, or, more likely, just pretended as much.

Just then, the music began and Mum and George began their walk down the aisle.

"This is it," Ginny remarked, taking a deep breath before giggling girlishly.

Ron couldn't help it; he turned and pulled his sister into a hug. Perhaps it was that he'd only just realized this would be the last time he'd hug her while she was still a Weasley by name. She seemed to have come to a similar conclusion, because she hugged him right back without any snarky comments.

Hermione made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob as they separated. "Oh, don't start, Hermione," Ginny said shakily, wiping daintily at her eyes. "Mum was bad enough, and I can't afford to start crying!"

"Ron, Hermione, it's your turn," Dad prompted as he wrapped an arm around his daughter's shoulders.

"Right," Ron croaked, offering his arm to Hermione as they began to make their way down the aisle.

"I can't believe I forgot a handkerchief! At this rate I'll need one before the actual ceremony begins," Hermione remarked in a low voice.

"Don't worry, I've got one for you," Ron replied, inwardly congratulating himself on his foresight.

She turned and smiled radiantly at him, in such a way that Ron had to consciously remember to breathe. He loved being the one to make her smile like that, and he was quite certain it was the best thing he'd ever done.

"Harry looks so nervous," Hermione remarked affectionately, turning her eyes back to the end of the aisle.

"Told you as much," Ron replied, allowing a chuckle to escape as he watched Harry crack his knuckles repeatedly, the expression on his face similar to the one he'd worn before his first Quidditch match. "Do you think he'll cry?"

"Ron," Hermione scolded, "a man's wedding day is a very significant—"

"I'm taking the piss, love," Ron cut in, though he could tell from her tone that she wasn't truly upset.

Before she could respond, they'd reached the end of the aisle and Hermione had flung herself dramatically at Harry, who looked quite taken aback at the sudden display of affection. Ron couldn't help but laugh at a gesture that, not too many years ago, would have sent him into a jealous tailspin. He'd long since got his head on straight, but the memories of his jealousy seemed particularly ridiculous in the light of who was to walk down the aisle next.

By the time Ron and Hermione had taken their places on Harry's left side, the rest of the crowd had stood up and turned to get a better look at the bride, who had just appeared at the opposite end of the aisle. The sparkles of Ginny's dress shone even more radiantly now in the candlelight that illuminated the tent; she looked happier than Ron had ever seen her, and Dad was clearly on the verge of tears. Harry, on the other hand, looked simply awestruck.

What seemed like mere seconds later, they'd reached the front and Dad was giving Ginny away. Hermione began crying in earnest, and Ron proudly produced the handkerchief for her while swallowing the lump in his own throat.

The ceremony passed by in a blur. Ron spent most of it watching, but not really seeing. He kept his arm around Hermione's waist for most of it, and he managed to deliver the rings without any trouble, thankfully. He found that he could not focus on what Harry and Ginny and the stout little officiant were saying, because really, all he could think about was when it would be his and Hermione's turn. Would her dress sparkle like Ginny's? Would he pace as much as Harry had? Would her dad tear up when he gave her away? Would _he_ tear up when he saw her?

Ron only felt a little guilty about his preoccupation during the majority of the ceremony. From what he did pick up, the officiant was using a lot of sappy words that neither Harry nor Ginny would be caught dead saying, least of all in public. And then there were vows and then there was kissing, and all of the sudden they were Harry and Ginny Potter, and they were married.

The next time Ron had a second to breathe, the venue had changed and he found himself sitting at the head table with Hermione and his parents. The rest of his immediately family, sans Teddy and Victoire, were seated at an adjacent table. The toddlers were chasing each other in one of the corners under Andromeda Tonks' supervision. Harry and Ginny were missing as well; they were still somewhere in the throng of well-wishers that had surrounded them no sooner than Ron and Hermione had been able to congratulate them and get out of the way.

Hermione wiped her eyes one more time before smiling up at him. "Wasn't that just lovely?" she swooned.

"Reckon so," Ron replied shortly, since truly he had taken in very little of the proceedings.

"It was a beautiful ceremony," Mum piped in, dabbing at her own tears. "Harry's a Weasley, at last."

"Still not in name," Ron remarked unhelpfully.

"It's best that their name is Potter," Dad said evenly. "We've got quite enough Weasleys to be getting on with, I daresay."

"Oh, Arthur," Molly tutted, but she leaned into him a bit nonetheless. "They remind me so much of Lily and James."

"Did you know Harry's parents well?" Hermione asked brightly. This piqued Ron's interest as well; his parents had never really mentioned the Potters but in passing.

"Not well, no; they were quite a bit younger than us. We were married and had Bill before the two of them set foot in Hogwarts, I believe," Dad said.

"We met them a few times while they were working for the Order," Mum added. "They were such lovely people—brave, clever, loyal…and fierce, almost to a fault. It's amazing how much of them I can see in Harry, even though they were gone so soon."

"I can see some of their spirit in all of you, come to think of it," Dad remarked. "Funny how that works."

"But not so funny, when you think about it," Mum finished, tears coming to her eyes again.

"How do you mean?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, you grew up in similar circumstances," Mum said. "In a world that was broken, really, for lack of a better description, and you came out stronger people for it, which is remarkable in itself."

"I don't think we often say how extraordinary the whole lot of you are," Dad continued, his eyes shining as well. "Particularly the two of you and Harry. Not many people could survive what you did—and I don't just mean physical survival, either."

Ron could feel himself flush at his parents praise as he mumbled his thanks. Hermione had to pull out her handkerchief again as she stammered her words of gratitude. Ron reached instinctively under the table for Hermione's hand and felt his heart lift as she laced her fingers with his. A thoughtful silence fell upon the table that was not broken until a haggard Harry and Ginny appeared several moments later.

"Is your fan club done with you now?" Ron smirked as his Mum and Dad greeted the two with warm embraces.

"Hardy har," Ginny spat back, rolling her eyes and adopting a decidedly unladylike expression, which looked a little ridiculous given her current attire. "Just wait til you get married and see how you like the attention."

Ron flushed at this and stole a glance at Hermione. She was looking at him as well, and his breath caught; she was biting her lip in a way that always made him go just a bit mental. Ron wished, just for a moment, that he'd brought the ring tonight—then he remembered how incredibly inappropriate it would be to propose at someone else's wedding and pulled himself together. She deserved nothing less than the perfect proposal, after all.

"Would you get a room?" Harry asked sarcastically as he took a seat next to Ron. "Quit trying to out-couple us on our damn wedding day."

Ginny took this opportunity to lean over and kiss Harry soundly on the lips. "I've no worries of that happening, husband."

Ron chuckled lightheartedly, deciding it was not the time to make a remark about the nauseating nature of their physical relationship. "Can't believe you're somebody's husband, mate."

"Yeah, apparently that's what happens when you marry somebody," Harry quipped. "Ah, here comes dinner."

They were distracted for several minutes as an exquisite feast appeared in front of them. Though very little about the ceremony and décor had been extravagant, Harry and Ginny had certainly not gone the cheap route when it came to the cuisine. Each of them ate until they were well past full, and even then there was still cake to contend with.

"So are we really meant to dance after this?" Ginny asked as she finished off her second slice of cake.

"I'm afraid so," Mum chimed in. "I'll tell the band to wait a few minutes, let your stomachs settle."

With that, she and Dad left the table, leaving Ron and Hermione alone with the newlyweds.

"Just as well. We've got to say a few words to everyone, haven't we?" Harry asked Ginny, the expression on his face suggesting that he could think of no task more unpleasant.

"You have," Ginny corrected with a sweet smile. "I don't much feel like it, I'm afraid."

"If I felt like arguing today…" Harry grumbled, but there was no malice in his voice—he leaned over and kissed Ginny for what must have been the seventh or eighth time since they'd sat down.

"We've got some things to say, too," Hermione said cheerfully. "We can go first, if you like."

"We do?" Ron asked, panicked—he hadn't prepared a thing.

"You're the best man. Surely you've got a toast prepared?" Hermione asked, her forehead creasing.

"Right," Ron muttered, only just now remembering Hermione pestering him about this very subject a couple of weeks prior. "Right, I can say some things."

Hermione rolled her eyes knowingly. "I knew you'd forget."

"I didn't _forget—"_

"Yes, you did," she said matter-of-factly. "But it's not matter, we can do it together. Just pipe up when you see fit."

"Will you let me get a word in edgewise?" Ron asked warily.

"Well, it's not as though I've got a full-length speech prepared, just a few words…"

"Just get on with it. This promises to be amusing," Ginny declared, clanging a knife against her wine glass in order to get everyone's attention.

"_Sonorus,"_ Hermione muttered after pulling out her wand, casting the spell first on Ron, then on herself. Naturally, she'd somehow managed to make it work without holding a wand the whole time. The girl was too brilliant for anyone's good.

"Erm, hello," Hermione said, standing up and motioning for Ron to do the same. All he could see were the hundreds of eyes now focused on the pair of them. "We're Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and we'd just like to say a few words."

Hermione turned and looked at Ron, biting her lip again. He recognized that look—she was seeking reassurance. He nodded his head encouragingly, attempting to swallow his own nerves. He'd never been one for public speaking, so she needed to be the one to start.

"Right," she continued. "Well, we both know the bride and groom very well, obviously. I met Harry and Ron during my first year at Hogwarts, and we've been the best of friends ever since—after I toned down the bossiness and they stopped being prats, that is. The first time I was introduced to Ginny she was simply Ron's sister, but she's since become one of my dearest friends, and one of the most brilliant women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

Hermione paused here, and Ron wondered if he was supposed to add something. He could think of nothing, but luckily she continued. "It warms my heart to see the two of them so happy. I cannot think of two people more deserving of the best in life, or two people that have gone through more to get to it. Harry and Ginny, I love you both so much, and I am so honored to be your friend."

She stopped again, but this time she turned looked up at Ron expectantly. He coughed uncomfortably before stammering, "Y-yeah. Erm. I…" Ron looked wildly around the room, not sure what on Earth he was meant to say and quite certain he was more likely to throw up than say anything intelligible—but then, his eyes settled for a moment on the two people sitting next to him, his best friend and his sister, and he began to form a few sentences and hoped beyond belief that they strung together the right way.

"It's not a secret that this whole thing was weird for me at first," he began tentatively. "Ginny always had a thing for Harry back in the day, but eventually, it wasn't a childish crush and it wasn't one-sided. Originally the whole thing was just strange. But what I told Harry earlier today is that I can't think of anyone I'd rather have marrying my sister."

Ron gulped and looked at Hermione, who reciprocated his encouraging nod from earlier. He took a deep breath and continued, looking straight ahead and decidedly not at any of the guests, "Harry's got more good in him than anybody else on the planet. Doesn't mean he's not a git sometimes, but if anyone can handle him, it's my pain-in-the-arse sister. She grew up with six older brothers, and somehow I reckon she turned out far more clever and gutsy and…even compassionate, sometimes, than all the rest of us." He took it as a good sign that these comments were met with general laughter, and he summoned the courage to finish: "What I mean to say is that I couldn't be happier for you both. To Harry and Ginny."

The crowd repeated the toast, and everyone took a hearty drink as Ron and Hermione sat down. Harry clapped him on the back, seemingly lost for words.

"See, that was quite good!" Hermione told him enthusiastically, giving him a kiss on the cheek before dabbing at her eyes again. "Blew me right out of the water, you did."

"Really?" Ron said absently, willing his heart to stop racing. In retrospect, he wasn't entirely sure what he'd even said—but he was certain that he would not be embarking on any more public speaking endeavors for quite some time.

"Really," Hermione said, beaming. Her hand found his again under the table.

"Your turn, Harry," Ginny said softly. Ron was a bit surprised to see that her eyes were shining with unshed tears as well. She fixed him with a look of sincere gratitude when he caught her eye, and the message was received loud and clear.

"Right," Harry said, coughing uncomfortably as he, too, stood from his seat. "Ginny and I would just like to thank you all for coming," he began, using a ridiculously formal tone. "It means a lot to see everyone that has had an impact on our lives, and we couldn't be more thrilled to share this with all of you. Erm…to the Weasley family, especially…you took me in when I was twelve, long before it was official in any capacity. It's a relief to know already that my in-laws are good people—mental, sometimes, but aren't we all?"

Harry paused for a moment as the crowd laughed appreciatively, though George was booing heartily. Angelina Johnson, his girlfriend-by-everything-but-title, promptly bopped him on the head.

"Ron, Hermione," Harry began again a moment later, turning toward them with a look of gratitude on his face so intense Ron could hardly bear to look at him. Hermione squeezed his hand still more tightly as her sniffling increased. "I—I can't possibly…" he broke off, and Ron was scared he was going to start crying too—that they both were. But Harry cleared his throat and started again, this time speaking much more openly, "I didn't have a friend in the world before I went to Hogwarts, and somehow I ended up with the best there are, and I don't think there's any way the two of you could ever know just how much…"

"We do, mate," Ron said quietly, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. Hermione was leaning on his shoulder now, and he could feel her tears soaking through his dress robes.

Harry nodded gratefully, apparently not wanting to prolong the vulnerability any longer. Ron didn't blame him—emotions were overwhelming enough, and they were even less fun to deal with in front of a crowd.

"Right," Harry said, messing with his hair nervously before continuing. "Erm…lastly, I wanted to recognize those who can't be with us tonight, because there are far too many that fall under that category." He swallowed before turning to his wife and saying, "Ginny, I know my parents would have loved you. And I like to think everyone would have loved to have been here, would have been happy for us. So…to them," Harry finished bashfully, but the room raised their glasses in kind. Ginny kissed Harry again as he sat down, and Ron didn't think for a second to take the mickey.

"Well, that's about enough of that for one night, eh?" he remarked uncomfortably after a moment.

Harry laughed heartily. "I should hope so."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she lifted her head off Ron's shoulder. "_Boys."_

Ginny snickered. "I hope you don't expect anything heartfelt out of Ron for quite awhile, Hermione. I think that may have done him in for the next year or so."

"Just because it's your wedding day doesn't mean I'm going to take your abuse," Ron shot back.

"Coming from the one who referred to me as a _pain in the arse_ during his toast…"

Just then, the band began to play, and the assembled guests started applauding enthusiastically. "Suppose that's our cue," Harry said, holding out his hand for Ginny to take. She did, and they made their way down to the dance floor.

Hermione cuddled into Ron again as they watched them in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. After a few moments, Ron scooted his chair back and stood up. "Shall we?"

Hermione smiled her assent and followed him to the dance floor, where they joined the newlyweds, Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur, and Neville and Hannah Abbott. Wait...

"Neville and Hannah?" Ron asked incredulously as he placed his hands on Hermione's waist.

"It's nothing official yet," Hermione said calmly, looping her arms around his neck. She'd worn tall heels for the occasion, which thankfully made their height difference whilst in this position a little less pronounced. "Neville told me earlier that they've been seeing each other for a few weeks."

Ron nodded in acceptance before pulling her closer so that he could wrap his arms entirely around her and rest his head against hers. Their previous position had been too distracting; her dress was offering him the perfect view of her chest, but he didn't think she would find it amusing if he were staring. Luckily, she sighed happily at the change and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Love you," he muttered quietly, figuring now was as good a time as any to remind her.

"Love you too," he heard her whisper back, and he smiled widely.

He thought he would quite like to stay like this for the rest of the night, even though he knew his feet might get tired after awhile. However, all too soon the song changed to something more upbeat. That wasn't the worst thing, though, he thought as he spun a laughing Hermione around a few moments later. The reality was that he'd do anything the rest of the night, or the rest of his life, so long as he was with her. It occurred to him briefly that he might tell her as much, but instead he archived the idea in his mind—it sounded proposal-y, didn't it?

Eventually, they decided that their feet simply could not move any longer. Grabbing a couple of glasses of champagne along the way, they eventually found a spot to sit with George and Angelina.

"The two of you gave lovely speeches," Angelina told them as they sat down.

"And it was only a little bit nauseating!" George chimed in, grinning wickedly as he took a sip of his firewhiskey.

Ron laughed. "Tell me about it. I don't think I've ever been quite so—"

"Girly?" George offered.

"George!" Hermione and Angelina scolded together, the latter pinching him on the arm.

"What? Is touchy-feely a better way to put it?" George asked defensively.

"Being sentimental isn't a bad thing in the slightest," Hermione said diplomatically before taking a dainty sip of her champagne.

"Ronniekins is secretly a romantic then, is he?" George asked, his grin growing again. "Tell me, Hermione, does he write you poetry?"

"Oh, quit it," Angelina reproached. "I need the loo; I'll be right back."

"As do I. I'll walk with you," Hermione offered, and two women left the brothers alone.

"So when are you gonna marry her?" George asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Ron scowled. "When are you going to start calling Ange your girlfriend?"

George shrugged. "No need, is there? Might as well just move straight to wife from here, in my opinion."

Ron's eyes widened. "When are you asking her?"

George shrugged again. "Dunno. One of these days, I suppose. I don't think either of us wants a spectacle—just our families in the back garden or something. Shouldn't be too much planning either, that way, and we can get straight to the good stuff."

Ron sighed heavily, causing George to raise an eyebrow. Reluctantly, Ron asked, "How can you be so calm about this?"

"I know what I want. It doesn't have to be a big thing, y'know?" George said thoughtfully, his tone more serious than it'd been all night.

"Well, it is a big thing," Ron said, a bit more fiercely than he'd intended to. It rubbed him the wrong way, that George could be so blasé about marrying Angelina when he'd been struggling with how to ask Hermione for months—years, really.

"Sure, but life's short. Don't take it too seriously. I mean—I take _her_ seriously. Just not all the extra stuff," George said wisely, finishing off his bottle of firewhiskey with a smack of his lips.

Ron was silent for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he said quietly, "I've got a ring." Again, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. It was good to say it out loud for a second time—it made the whole thing seem real. He was going to ask Hermione to marry him. _He_ was going to ask _Hermione_ to _marry_ him.

"You have?" George said loudly, and Ron shot him a glare.

"You can't tell anyone," Ron continued in a low voice. "I've been waiting for the best time to ask her, and I want it to be a surprise."

"Just do it then," George advised. "Do it now."

"I can't propose at my best mate's wedding! And my sister's, on top of that," Ron protested. "Besides, I want to talk to her dad first."

"You really do wanna do this good and proper, don't you?" George said wryly. "Doesn't matter how you do it, she's gonna say yes."

"Say that all you want, doesn't make it any easier to do the thing," Ron shot back, covering his face in his hands. What was he thinking, telling _George_ of all people?

"Ron," George said sincerely. "You and Hermione make up the most sickeningly happy couple I've ever seen. You even look happy when you're bickering, for Merlin's sake. This is one of those things that's just supposed to happen."

"Things don't always happen like they're supposed to," Ron insisted, though he knew George had a point. But his old insecurities would always find a way to crawl into his subconscious, and that was something he certainly had no desire to discuss with his brother.

"No, they don't," George said, and Ron felt a pang of guilt—but George shooed it away as soon as he saw it in his eyes. "Y'know, I owe Fred quite the load of money in the afterlife. He was certain it was the two of you from when you were thirteen."

Ron chuckled. "Just him?"

"I was always the cynical one," George said dismissively, "but I like to think I'm not so much, anymore. 'Specially now, with Ange."

Ron smiled a little. "She's been really good for you."

"You don't need to tell me that," George said emphatically, returning his smile briefly before casting his glance toward the house. "Ah, our ladies return."

Ron's smile grew as he gazed at Hermione while she approached. Her cheeks and nose were flushed prettily from the winter cold, and it seemed that she'd forgotten to shield herself from the snow—it wasn't falling too hard anymore, but a few flakes clung to her hair, some of which had slipped from its elegant style. He ignored George's pointed cough, which sounded suspiciously like "ask her," and stood as she approached.

"Care for another dance? I like this song," Hermione said when she reached him. He nodded and allowed himself to be pulled toward the dance floor once again. But before they reached it, he stopped and, grabbing her waist, gently turned her around to face him.

"What is it?" she asked. In response, he kissed her. He couldn't quite give her a proper snog, considering they were very much in public, but he tried to pour as much emotion as possible into that kiss. Her lips were a little cold from her journey to the main house, but he didn't mind in the slightest—she tasted like champagne and chocolate and _Hermione_, an ideal combination.

"What was that for?" she asked quietly when they broke apart.

"Since when do I need a reason?" he teased in response, though far more meaningful words were on the tip of his tongue—but he couldn't say them all, he simply couldn't. Not yet, not tonight.

"But really?" she prompted, knowing him too well to let it go just yet.

Ron hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to tell her without _really _telling her. He could tell her that she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, or that he was the luckiest bloke in the world, or that she was the most beautiful person he'd ever met, or that he would never stop trying to make her happy, or that she was _everything_ that mattered to him, and all of it would have been true. But he couldn't bring himself to say any of those things; maybe it was because everything that came to mind sounded overly sentimental, or maybe it was because he didn't want to go down a road he couldn't make it to the end of just now, or maybe it was any number of things. Instead, he simply told her the one thing he'd been sure of since he was seventeen: "I love you."

Her smile brightened, and he was momentarily amazed at how three simple words she'd heard from his lips a million times could have such an impact. But then again, he shouldn't have been; because then she replied in kind, and he could feel his heart lighten and his grin broaden as she led him back out to the floor for another dance. He followed without a second thought, because he would follow her to the ends of the earth and back—but he still had to ask her for permission to do so forever.

* * *

A/N: So that happened. I don't even know what to say for myself. I listened to a lot of "To Have a Home" from AVPS and other such songs and then things happened. But hey… _**guess what happens next. ;)**_

On a separate note—check out "If Music be the Food of Love" by lauryne7878. I read it before finishing this chapter and it's completely brilliant. It can be found on this site and was posted quite recently. It's a great read.

Let me know what you thought of this sentimental madness, if you'd like. I am incredibly grateful for all feedback I receive! Also, I finished the last edit of this at nearly four in the morning so let me know if I missed any bad mistakes. :)


	16. Finally

A/N: No point in beating around the bush. We all know what's happening here. Thank you all for coming along on the ride thus far. This chapter has been in the works since I first started writing this story back in July, and I'm really excited that it's finally done! Even though I've always worked with the mindset that I'm not writing this to please anyone but myself, I really hope you guys enjoy reading this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am just a poor college student doing this for funsies. Don't sue me, please.

* * *

"The Last Proposal"

22-23 February 2002

Ron paced intensely back and forth outside the door to Hermione's flat, attempting to take deep breaths but failing miserably. It wasn't often that he didn't go inside straight away, but today was different. Today he'd brought the ring. Today, he was going to propose. He was going to do it. He was. The only problem was that every time he came to the conclusion that he _was_, in fact, going to propose, he'd chicken out the second his hand moved toward the door handle.

He knew she was in there alone; she'd been off work since four that afternoon. When they'd discussed their plans for the evening earlier, she had been very excited about ordering Chinese takeaway and rereading the latest novel she'd become obsessed with. As far as she knew, he was working the late shift and wouldn't be joining her until nearly midnight. That was a lie, of course; he'd been off since three and had spent the last five hours working up the courage to actually go to her flat.

How was one supposed to ask somebody else to be with them forever, anyway? Ron had tried to string some words together a couple of times, but what he came up with always sounded so forced—and that simply wouldn't do, because shouldn't getting married be a natural thing? It was natural, really; it was what he most wanted to do. But no matter how many times he practiced the words, they never sounded quite right. Hermione had a way with words, but he couldn't very well ask her for help, could he?

Ron sighed deeply for probably the hundredth time since he'd begun pacing nearly half an hour ago. Thankfully nobody else had seemed to notice his presence there, because frankly, he reckoned he looked a little like a psychopath. But of course, he could only blame himself for his current anxiety; he wouldn't be having this problem if he'd just proposed last week like he'd intended to.

On Valentine's Day, Ron had taken Hermione out to a nice restaurant for a romantic dinner. Everything was going swimmingly, and he had been planning to take her back to Grimmauld Place afterward. He'd put out roses and candles in his bedroom—which, incidentally, was charmed shut so that only he could open it, because he wasn't about to take Harry or Ginny's abuse for his loving gestures. But then, they'd seen another couple get engaged a few tables away from their own, and it hit Ron just how terribly cliché it was to propose on _Valentine's Day_,of all days. She didn't even particularly _like_ the damn holiday, come to think of it. So, he'd suggested they go back to her place instead, and the ring remained in his desk drawer another week.

But now, he had it with him. It was in the inside pocket of his jacket, just waiting for him to summon the nerve to go in there and ask her. There was nothing holding him back now. It was a perfectly ordinary, thoroughly non-clichéd Friday evening, and she certainly wouldn't be expecting anything. He even had her father's blessing on his side, and obtaining that had taken a certain level of Gryffindor courage in itself.

_Six Weeks Previously_

The lunch had gone well so far; Mr. Granger and Ron had managed to small-talk their way through most of the meal. Mr. Granger discussed the holiday he'd just taken with his wife, and Ron talked about Harry and Ginny's wedding. They'd become pretty good at this over the years; that is, at talking for prolonged periods of time about nothing particularly important. It was a necessary skill, because whenever they started to talk about something too terribly significant, Mr. Granger would tend to lose any semblance of tact and Ron would go on the defensive. Ron was hoping to avoid that on this particular occasion.

At Ron's suggestion, they were eating at a favorite spot of Mr. Granger's; he wasn't about to take any chances. Everything had come together quite well, and both men were feeling fairly relaxed. It wasn't until Ron was about halfway through his chicken parmesan that the real conversation began.

"So, Ron," Mr. Granger began, "I don't suppose you wanted to have lunch so that you could hear about France, though I wouldn't begrudge you if you did—fascinating country, it is."

"Indeed, it sounds that way," Ron said, though truthfully he hadn't taken in much of anything Mr. Granger had told him thus far, about France or otherwise. He cleared his throat before continuing, "Erm, right. Well, I wanted to talk to you, you see. About Hermione, that is." He could feel his ears heating up, but he forced himself to meet the elder man's eyes, which were scrutinizing him in a way that made him feel quite uncomfortable.

"Yes?" Mr. Granger prompted after a moment of silence.

Ron took a deep breath. "I'm gonna ask…askhertomarryme," Ron said, the words falling out of his mouth at an alarming rate. It was best to get it all out there, he supposed. When Mr. Granger didn't respond right away, he continued rapidly: "I've got a ring, and I've got some money saved so she and I can look into getting our own place; her flat will do for now, but obviously we can't very well stay there forever. And I know Hermione would probably kick my arse six ways to Sunday if she knew I'd gone to ask your _permission_, but my family's always been pretty traditional, so I wanted your blessing before I…y'know. Ask her," he finished, shrugging uncomfortably before taking a quick bite of his meal, simply to have something to do other than look directly at Hermione's father.

"Well Ron, you know as well as I do that whether or not I give you my blessing, Hermione will do as she pleases," Mr. Granger said pointedly, chuckling a little at his own remark. Ron managed a pained smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "You love my daughter, do you not?"

"Of course I do," Ron replied hastily. "More than anything."

Mr. Granger nodded shortly. "Good. She deserves nothing less. And tell me, do you think you're ready for this kind of commitment?"

Ron could hardly get his voice to work; he had to clear his throat loudly before any sound would come out. He tried to remind himself that he'd faced Death Eaters many times before, but somehow Hermione's father seemed much more intimidating at the moment. "It's been her since I was seventeen, and that was just when I realized it," he said honestly, once he could finally choke the words out.

"And you're prepared to support her? Start a family with her?" Mr. Granger inquired.

Ron nodded, knowing what the elder man was getting at but thankful he hadn't explicitly gone there. "I'm working my way up in my department, which'll mean a desk job, eventually. Boring, but safe," he said carefully. "Having a family with Hermione's more important than any job, anyway."

Mr. Granger nodded again. "That's all I wanted to hear. I've known this day was coming, Ron. It's been clear enough since the day you lot came for us in Australia. My blessing is yours."

Ron smiled uneasily. He'd been hoping to avoid any mention of the Australia incident. "I…thank you sir," he said gratefully, relieved that the hard part was over.

"So when do you suppose the wedding will be?" Mr. Granger asked not-quite-casually as he returned to his meal. Ron had to stop himself from groaning aloud. The hard part was over, but apparently, the inquisition was not.

_Pacing in the Hallway Once Again_

Ron had been planning the Valentine's Day proposal since he'd talked to Mr. Granger. When that had fallen to pieces, he'd sent himself into a bit of a desperate tailspin. He had briefly considered just putting the ring on her finger while she slept or something equally cowardly, but that wouldn't do, not for someone as important as Hermione. So he set himself a deadline—he would ask her before his birthday. That had given him two weeks to get over himself and just do the thing already.

But then things got complicated; he couldn't propose _on_ his birthday, or right near it, because then she'd feel like she had to say yes. Granted, he was pretty sure she was going to say yes—hopefully, anyway—but he wasn't about to leave her without a way out if that's what she wanted. He didn't want to propose on a weeknight, either, because then they wouldn't be able to spend the entire night celebrating. So, that left this weekend. Sometime in the next forty-eight hours, he was going to ask Hermione to marry him. No, that wasn't right—he was going to do it _now_. He just had to walk in there and do it. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, Ron could think of about forty-seven things that could go wrong, and that was just off the top of his head. However, he forced himself to shove those thoughts to the back of his mind and focus instead on what he was going to say. This was proving to be the really tricky part. When he'd awkwardly broached the subject with Harry the other day, he'd found out that Harry hadn't even prepared a speech at all—he'd said something about "looking at her and knowing what to say." Frankly, that sounded like a load of bullshit to Ron. He was quite certain that he'd just get tongue-tied if he tried to tell Hermione what she really meant to him off the top of his head.

But maybe, just maybe, he didn't need to give a speech, he realized in a stroke of brilliance. He nearly tripped over his own feet as his pacing increased rapidly with his excitement. She knew exactly how he felt about her; they'd had enough of that mushy pillow talk to ensure that much. Maybe all he had to say was what he'd told her dad, that he loved her and that he wanted to be with her. No, that sounded cliché…he should be more specific. Okay, he thought to himself—he'd figure it out piece by piece.

_Hermione, I love you._ Wait, should he use her full name? Yeah, that sounded more proper. _Hermione Jean Granger, I love you._ Yes, that sounded official. Then she'd know he had something important to say and wouldn't try to cut him off. _Hermione Jean Granger, I love you. _Right, that sounded good. He could say that. He'd been saying that for awhile, though he didn't often use her full name while doing so. Still, this he knew he could do well. Even better, he could tell her he loved her more than anything. Yes, that was brilliant. _Hermione Jean Granger, I love you more than anything. _Perfect. What next?

_I want to be with you forever._ But did that sound too creepy or obsessive? Forever was a weird word, Ron thought, because he did want to be with her forever, but the word itself just sounded ridiculous. It was the kind of thing someone might say in a muggle fairytale, or maybe in one of those terrible romance films Hermione and Ginny would sometimes watch together when he and Harry went out with the blokes. No, he could come up with a better way to say what he meant. After some brainstorming, he had it: _You're it for me. I want to be with you, have a family with you, and grow old with you. _There, that covered all of his main objectives, and it was even in a list format. Hermione liked lists.

_Hermione Jean Granger, I love you. You're it for me. I want to be with you, have a family with you, and grow old with you._ That was good, he decided. He went over it a few more times, repeating it in his head so that he wouldn't forget or trip over his words when he finally went inside. All he had to do was tack the _will you marry me_ part onto the end. Those words would be the tough ones. _Will you marry me? Will you marry me? Will you marry me? _He tested them again and again, until he was sure he could say them without sounding like a complete tit. He still wasn't entirely sure he'd reached that objective when he stopped, but he figured it was as good as it would get.

The words were there. The only thing he was leaving to chance was his ability to get down on one knee without falling, but he wasn't about to practice that in an open hallway. He'd been fortunate enough not to be disturbed thus far, but it'd be just his luck for a neighbor to come out the moment he decided to practice his kneeling—or even worse, Hermione could hypothetically stick her head out at any second. That'd ruin the surprise once and for all.

He went through his speech one more time and decided it was satisfactory. It wasn't too formal or too over-the-top. And besides, it was the best he could do. He was asking her to marry him, so there was no point in pretending to be something other than he was, because she knew better anyway. And besides, he should really be up front with her about just what she was getting herself into by saying yes.

Taking one more deep breath and wiping a few beads of sweat off his forehead, Ron dug his key out of his pocket and turned it in the lock. Tapping his jacket pocket one more time to make sure the ring was within easy reach, he pushed the door open and walked in, the practiced words on the tip of his tongue. But what he saw when he entered stopped him right in his tracks.

He'd expected to see Hermione curled up in her favorite armchair with her book, possibly still munching on the last bits of her dinner. He'd got the location right, but she wasn't reading. Instead, she was crying, and it didn't look like the kind of crying that came after reading something particularly heart-wrenching. No, these were real-life tears. Proposal forgotten, he hastily took off his jacket and hung it up, muttering a charm to make the pocket undetectable before hurrying over to kneel in front of Hermione.

"What's wrong?" he asked intensely, taking her hands in his. She seemed to be gaining control of herself, which was a good sign—though he couldn't help but blame himself for not being there whenever the tears had started.

"I thought you were working late," she said softly with a hiccup, turning her hands so that their palms were touching.

"Got off early," he lied, trying to swallow his guilt. "What's happened? Is everyone okay?"

Hermione sighed heavily and cleared her throat. "My dad was in an accident. He's okay, I think. My mum wouldn't even let me come to the hospital tonight; she said it could wait until tomorrow."

"Oh, Hermione," Ron said in his very best soothing tone. He pulled her up off the chair, only to take her spot and guide her back into his lap. She turned to face him so that she was straddling him, and he did his best not to respond to this—she was still crying, after all. "But he's okay, yeah?" he asked worriedly.

"I think so. Mum wouldn't tell me much, but if he was going to…you know…she would have asked me to come, I'm sure of it," she replied, burrowing her face into his neck as a fresh round of tears came to her eyes. "I don't know if there's even a reason to be crying, I'm just worried. And relieved at the same time, if that makes any sense."

"Doesn't need to," Ron replied, rubbing her back comfortingly. "What kind of an accident, do you know?"

"He and Mum were driving home from the practice, and someone else's car hit theirs on the driver's side. Mum wasn't hurt, save a few scratches; Dad got the brunt of it. She made it sound like he'd been in surgery tonight. I do wish she'd let me come," Hermione said fretfully.

"We can go if you want," Ron offered immediately.

"She won't even tell me which hospital he's in until tomorrow," Hermione lamented. "Though how she expects me to have a quiet evening at home, I've no idea."

"We'll go first thing in the morning, then," Ron said decisively. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt his hopes of proposing slip away. Even he knew it was not tactful to do so when her mind was so clearly on something else; once again, it would simply have to wait. Besides, he wanted to see for himself that Mr. Granger was okay—he'd never known anyone that had been in a car accident before, but from what he understood, a lot of the victims couldn't walk away unscathed.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," Hermione said quietly, pressing a light kiss to his cheek before leaning back to look at him properly.

"I do want to," he assured her, causing her to look immensely relieved. "Now, why don't I make us some tea, and we can have a nice, quiet evening at home, yeah?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. "I don't suppose there's any more we can do, anyhow."

"He's going to be just fine," Ron repeated confidently, though he really had no idea. He leaned in to peck her on the lips before they got up off the chair. She muttered something about blankets and disappeared toward the bedroom while Ron focused on making the tea. Several minutes later found them sitting on the sofa together, Hermione resting her feet on Ron's lap. They sipped their tea without talking; Hermione turned on her television and flipped to the news channel. Neither one of them was paying much attention, but it was nice to have something distracting in the background.

"Ron?" Hermione said tentatively after a few minutes, breaking their comfortable silence.

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinking…" she trailed off, her eyes on her tea.

"You'll have to be more specific. You think a lot," Ron teased, rubbing one of her feet tenderly.

Hermione pursed her lips in response. "As I was saying," she began again with an air of importance, "I was just thinking about the word _home_."

"What about it?" Ron asked curiously, turning to look at her—he was surprised to see that she was blushing a little.

"You said we could spend a nice evening at _home_," she said pointedly, "and I was just thinking…maybe it's time that you _do _call this place home."

Ron gave an involuntary start. "You mean move in here permanently?"

Hermione bit her lip again. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. It's just that you spend quite a bit of time here anyway, especially since Harry and Ginny got married…"

"I'd love to," he cut in, wishing to quell any of her misgivings before they could properly form. He'd practically been living in her flat for months; more than half of his things were here. It wasn't a huge step, in the long run, but making it official was definitely something he'd like to do—especially given what else he wanted to make official in the very near future. "I just didn't know if _you_ wanted me to, since you like your space and what not," he admitted.

"Of course I do," Hermione said reassuringly with a brilliant smile. "It's about time I shared my space with you officially, don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Ron replied, beaming at her. "It's settled then."

"Perfect," Hermione said contentedly, scooting closer so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. "I'm really glad you were able to get off early tonight."

"So am I," Ron replied, ignoring the return of the guilty feeling in his gut. "Do you want to call it an early night? This week has been exhausting."

"Okay," Hermione said, stretching a little before getting up. "I'll set an early alarm for tomorrow. Mum said she wouldn't tell me anything more until then, so I hope she's alright with a six o'clock wakeup call in the morning."

Ron laughed in appreciation. "That's my girl."

Hermione fell asleep straight away, probably tired from the emotional spiral her night had turned out to be, but sleep didn't come so quickly for Ron. Instead, he lay awake, thinking of everything and nothing all at the same time. Most of his thoughts had something to do with the ring in his jacket pocket and the woman lying at his side, and how he would very much like the ring to be on her finger before the weekend was up.

He hoped that their visit to the hospital would prove uneventful, not only because he cared about Mr. Granger's health, which he did, but also because he wanted another try at his speech. It was a good speech, he assured himself again. She'd like it, he knew she would. She had to.

Ron smiled as he felt her breath tickle his neck and saw her wild curls splayed out on the pillow. He didn't watch her sleep too often, mostly because she thought it was a little weird (though he knew for a fact that she did the same thing), but she really did look angelic—peaceful, serene, and beautiful. There was something nice about seeing her that way. She was normally so fiery and passionate, which was brilliant, but he was the only one that saw this particular side of her—the most vulnerable side. He squeezed the hand that was resting on his chest as he felt his heart swell with something like pride. She squeezed back in her sleep, and his grin broadened. His last thought before he too drifted off to sleep was that he was going to ask her, and she was going to say yes. Tomorrow.

_Ten Hours Later_

Eight hours of sleep, several frantic phone calls, a couple strong cups of coffee, and one slightly painful bus ride later, Ron and Hermione found themselves in the waiting room of a muggle hospital Ron hadn't heard of before or bothered to get the name of now. All he knew was that he didn't like it; the walls were completely white and everything was unnervingly clean, which made Ron feel quite out of place in his old jacket and just-a-bit-too-small trainers. He was trying his hardest not to think about what was still in the inside pocket of his jacket, because there were more pressing matters at hand. Hermione's mum had instructed them to wait here for her, and Hermione was getting quite impatient.

"She said she'd be here at eight," Hermione fretted, checking her watch for the fourth time since they'd arrived a few minutes ago.

"And it's just now four minutes til," Ron pointed out as kindly as he possibly could.

"Sorry," Hermione replied, without the least bit of an actual apology in her tone. "I just want to know exactly what's happened."

"If it was anything too terrible, she'd have told you already," Ron said comfortingly, wrapping one of his arms around her shoulders and squeezing gently. "Relax, love."

"Here she comes," Hermione said suddenly, giving no indication whatsoever that she'd even heard Ron speak. Instead, she stood up and hurried toward her mother, who had just appeared in the waiting room. Mrs. Granger calmly ignored her daughter's demand for information and instead hugged them both in greeting and motioned for them to follow her out of the room.

"I told you, dear, he's just fine," Mrs. Granger said at last as they made their way down the hallway.

"Yes, you told me that," Hermione snapped. "I would appreciate further detail, please."

"One of his legs was fractured, but that was an easy fix; a few weeks with a cast and it'll be good as new. He also suffered some minor internal injuries, but it was nothing too threatening," Mrs. Granger began. "I couldn't give you all of the details if I wanted to; I'm afraid my medical expertise is limited to teeth, and his appear to be just fine. Anyway, he went into surgery late last night and seems to be responding well. They'll be keeping him here for a few days to recover, but he should be back to one hundred percent in several weeks at the very latest." She said this all very calmly and matter-of-factly.

Hermione nodded tersely in response. "And you couldn't have told me this last night?"

"I told you almost the same thing verbatim last night," Mrs. Granger replied. "You were just in too much of a frenzy to hear what I was saying, dear, which is why I told you to wait until today to come. You're just like him, you know, so easily excitable."

"How can you be so calm about this?" Hermione asked her mother incredulously.

"Your father doesn't need us to be making a fuss. He's going to be fine," Mrs. Granger said firmly. "And how are you, Ron? It's been awhile since I've seen you!"

"I'm doing well," Ron answered uncomfortably, keeping a nervous eye on Hermione. She looked as though she was on the verge of either shouting or crying, and neither was a particularly desirable option.

"Good," Mrs. Granger said absentmindedly. "Ah, here we are." She had stopped outside a room that was marked as private. It was at the very end of a long hallway, which had signs proclaiming it to be the "Recovery Ward" hung up every few meters. The impeccable neatness of the building was still a little overwhelming, but the further they got into the hospital, the more similar it appeared to St. Mungo's, which brought Ron at least a little comfort. "Now, your father is supposed to be asleep, so please don't try to wake him, dear," Mrs. Granger said gently.

Hermione nodded and reached out impatiently to turn the door handle. She let out a loud gasp as she entered; Mrs. Granger quickly put an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the nearest chair. Ron followed shortly after and immediately saw the cause of her shock.

Mr. Granger looked _terrible_. His face appeared gaunt and pale, and he was hooked into so many strange machines that Ron couldn't help but shudder a little. He was asleep, alright, but Ron was fairly certain it was not a natural sleep—he wasn't moving at all. The only sign of life was the beeping machine next to him that Ron had only ever seen on television—Hermione had once explained that it monitored a person's heartbeat. Quite frankly, Mr. Granger looked the exact opposite of fine.

"Like I said, he has a few days of recovery ahead of him," Mrs. Granger said quietly, "but he is going to be back to normal before we know it."

The room settled into an uncomfortable silence. Ron sat in the chair next to Hermione's and took her right hand in his left, hoping to offer some form of comfort. She squeezed his hand appreciatively, but she didn't take her eyes off of her father. Mrs. Granger kissed her daughter on the forehead, then sat in a chair at her husband's side and took a book out of her bag.

They remained like that for most of the morning. Ron knew that Hermione was crying a little from time to time, but she was clearly trying her hardest to make sure no one noticed; every time a tear escaped her eyes, she would wipe it away furiously with the hand that wasn't holding Ron's. Ron, meanwhile, was trying to look at anything except Mr. Granger—seeing a man who was normally quite formidable look so vulnerable made him uneasy. Once he got sick of examining the walls and ceiling, he kept his eyes trained on his and Hermione's interlocked fingers.

At last, around eleven, Mr. Granger began to stir. Hermione sat up anxiously in her chair, and Mrs. Granger calmly placed a marker in her book. "Good morning, dear," she greeted her husband. "You got enough rest, I hope?"

"Think so," Mr. Granger croaked back slowly. "I can't remember much after getting back from surgery."

"They knocked you out straight away," Mrs. Granger replied. "You look much better this morning. Hermione and Ron are here to see you, by the way."

Hermione stood up so quickly she almost knocked the chair over in her haste to get to her father's side. "How are you feeling, Dad?" she asked fretfully.

"Well, I've been better," Mr. Granger replied frankly. "Speaking of which, Karen, would you mind fetching a doctor? I could use some more painkillers."

"Of course," Mrs. Granger said sweetly, kissing her husband on the forehead before making her way out of the room.

"Please, Dad, how bad is it?" Hermione insisted as soon as her mother was out of earshot.

"I'm going to be just fine, dear," Mr. Granger replied gently, reaching out with some effort to take his daughter's left hand. Ron noticed the elder man frown a little as he did—something he guessed had to do with her empty ring finger. "This is why your mother didn't call you here last night, I imagine. Now, it's not to say I wouldn't like to have a few choice words with the bleeding idiot who crashed into my car, but things could have been much worse. Now, your mother said Ron's here too?"

"Right here, sir," Ron said, walking over to stand at Hermione's side.

"Good, good. Calm her down a bit, won't you?" Mr. Granger requested.

"Dad!" Hermione protested. "You can't possibly fault me for being worried!"

"I'm alright, dear," Mr. Granger insisted, patting her hand comfortingly. "Ah, here we are!"

Mrs. Granger reentered the room with two doctors at her side, but she clearly did not have the intention to stay for the doctors' inspection. "So long as you're in good hands, Peter, the three of us are going to go get a bite to eat," she said, gesturing for Ron and Hermione to follow her out the door.

"Enjoy it for me," Mr. Granger replied with a grimace as the doctors began to examine him. Ron was only too happy to leave the room and follow Mrs. Granger downstairs to the hospital's cafeteria. Breakfast had been more than four hours ago, and he was starving. Hermione, however, appeared to be in a mood the whole way down.

The hospital's selection of food proved to be less than stellar, much to Ron's disappointment. He eventually chose to purchase a sandwich and an apple, which were the only two things that looked properly edible. After making his selection, Ron proudly handed the disgruntled-looking worker a handful of muggle money that Hermione had made him put in his pocket that morning. The woman gave him a strange look before returning the majority of the money back to him as change, but Ron did not let this diminish his accomplishment. With a bit of a spring in his step, he made his way over to a table in the corner where Mrs. Granger and Hermione were sitting, each eating a small salad.

"I wish you would have called me here last night," Hermione told her mother pointedly. "Clearly his injuries are much more serious than you're making them out to be."

"By the time I got you on the telephone last night, we knew he was going to be just fine," Mrs. Granger said steadily. "There was no reason for you to come here so late in the evening."

"Stop saying he's 'fine.' I'm sick of that word. And besides, if it was ever in question for a moment you ought to have let me know straight away!" Hermione snapped. "I would have wanted to be here either way."

"You're overreacting, dear," Mrs. Granger insisted.

"Am I? I don't think I am, all things considered!" Hermione said wildly, her voice slowly rising to a shriek. She whirled around to face Ron then. "Don't you think I would have been a bit more _relaxed_ if I'd been able to come last night?"

Ron's eyes flickered comically between the two women, not wanting to upset his girlfriend or her mother—though he didn't think either one of them was entirely right, anyway. "Erm…yeah, probably. But there wasn't much you could have done had you been here. Not that I think you're overreacting," he added hurriedly as her eyes narrowed. She then rolled them exaggeratedly and turned back to her salad.

"Excuse me for caring about the well-being of my family," she muttered dramatically.

"Hermione Jean!" Mrs. Granger said firmly, remarkably abstaining from raising her voice. "Believe it or not, I was trying to make decisions that would be best for our family."

"Mum, I'm twenty-two, not twelve," Hermione groaned again, clearly not in the mood to be criticized.

"Yes, you are," Mrs. Granger replied, "and I am forty-seven. I am not going to pretend that you're a child anymore, dear, but you are still _my_ child. I am going to do what I think is best for our family, just as you would do in a similar situation—just as you _have_ done. Now is not the time to moan and groan at each other, it's a time to count our blessings and be thankful for what we have, which is quite a lot, I believe."

The women exchanged an intense look. Eventually, Hermione nodded succinctly and continued eating. Ron was not at all sure what had just happened, but he thought they'd come to some sort of an understanding. The argument was over for the moment, anyway, and the rest of their meal passed in another uncomfortable silence, by the end of which Ron was certain that women were completely mental.

The walk back to Mr. Granger's room was quiet as well, but Ron took it as a good sign that Hermione reached for his hand as they exited the cafeteria. He grinned at her in response, and she offered him a half-smile. By the time they reached the room, Mr. Granger was already asleep again, so the three resumed their former positions. After about an hour of silence, Mrs. Granger reached into her bag again and offered each Ron and Hermione a book, which they took gratefully, thankful beyond belief for something to do other than stare at Mr. Granger. Still, nobody spoke.

Ron wasn't entirely sure what his book was about, but he expected nothing less of a book given to him by a Granger. All he knew was that it had something to do with philosophy and that, based on the style, it must have been written many, many years ago. Since he had nothing better to do, he made a sort of game out of trying to figure out what exactly the author had been getting at. Of course, he had no idea if he was right or not, but it was something to do as the hours passed.

The light from the small window was beginning to disappear by the time Mr. Granger woke up again. This time, Ron ducked out of the room in order to give the family a bit of privacy. He ventured down the hall a little ways, eventually finding a portion of the wall that looked a little less spotless than the rest and sitting back against it. He'd been in this damn hospital all day, and it was starting to drive him insane. Sitting near even the slightest imperfection was strangely comforting.

Sighing heavily, Ron reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small box that had been tormenting him for so long. He opened it carefully and stared at the ring inside. The three small diamonds on it were sparkling just as beautifully as the day he'd bought it, he noticed. Had it really been more than six months since he'd bought the bloody thing? He plucked the ring out of its box and held it up to the light. Brilliant. He'd always been sure he'd get the words wrong when it came time to ask, but he knew this ring was perfect. It wasn't too flashy, but it wasn't cheap either. It was traditional, but it was still distinctive enough that it was clear he'd put some thought into it. He'd even had the inside engraved for good measure: RW & HG. He was positive Hermione would like it, if he found the right moment to give her the damn thing.

He'd been so ready to do it last night, before everything had gone to hell. He'd even been optimistic that he could do it after their visit to the hospital, but in light of Mr. Granger's condition and the emotional trek Hermione seemed to be on, that possibility was looking less and less likely by the minute. Ron stared at the ring intensely, as though it might hold within it the answer to his problems.

He just wanted to propose to Hermione in a way that she would be able to talk about for the rest of their lives without feeling embarrassed or short-changed. She deserved nothing less than the best he could give—if not a story for others, then a memory for herself. He knew she didn't want some flashy, elaborate plan, but he reckoned she'd want something more than a fumbling proposal at an inopportune moment.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Ron snapped out of his trance and looked around wildly for the source of the noise. He sighed with relief when he realized that the voice had come not from Hermione, as he'd feared, but her mother, who was standing before him with a raised eyebrow. On second thought, he wasn't sure that this scenario was much better.

"Reckon so," Ron said shortly as he placed the ring carefully back in its box. He didn't close it, though; he couldn't quite take his eyes off of it.

Much to Ron's surprise, Mrs. Granger sat down next to him against the wall. He could feel her inquisitive eyes on him, but he continued to stare at the ring. "It looks very nice. I'm sure she'll love it."

Ron grunted noncommittally.

Mrs. Granger, however, did not back down. "You asked Peter for his blessing nearly two months ago, did you not?"

A disturbing thought occurred to Ron just then. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you too—"

"Oh, don't be. The tradition is to ask the father, after all. And you've had my blessing for ages anyway," Mrs. Granger said dismissively, a twinkle in her eye as she spoke. "So why haven't you asked her?"

Ron sighed again before giving the answer he'd been giving everyone for more than a year: "I've been waiting for the right moment."

"Who's to say what the right moment is?" Mrs. Granger asked kindly.

"I don't know," Ron replied honestly, "but there certainly seem to be a lot of wrong moments."

"What do you mean by that?" Mrs. Granger inquired in a gentle tone.

"I was going to do it last night," Ron replied, feeling only a little uncomfortable at the admission. Mrs. Granger had a way about her that induced honesty, but there was only so much he was willing to share with the woman who would hopefully be his future mother-in-law.

"But Hermione was a bit preoccupied?" Mrs. Granger guessed.

"Yeah," Ron affirmed, finally forcing himself to make eye contact. He couldn't quite read her expression; while Hermione's face was an open book, her mum could be a bit more reserved when she wanted to be—though perhaps that was simply because Ron didn't have practice reading her like he did Hermione.

"Hmm," Mrs. Granger said thoughtfully. "How were you going to do it?"

Ron gulped audibly. "I was just going to ask. Say a few words, get down on one knee. Maybe conjure a few roses afterward, provided she'd say yes."

"That's a good plan," Mrs. Granger replied wisely. "I can't see Hermione particularly enjoying a loud or boisterous proposal. She likes to leave the noise for rows, it seems."

Ron managed a smile at the elder woman's joke. "It was the only plan I could come up with. I'm not terribly creative, see."

"Follow through with it, dear," Mrs. Granger advised. "It doesn't matter when you do it. I'd guess you've wanted to do it plenty of times already, but stopped yourself. My advice to you is, well, don't stop yourself."

Ron looked at her doubtfully. "But—"

"You're overthinking it. Hermione is not going to care when, where, or how. You're asking her to spend her life with you, and I'm sure she's going to be much more interested in that than in any of the details. I speak from experience," Mrs. Granger said emphatically, holding up her left hand to display her engagement and wedding rings.

"Everyone's been telling me the same thing," Ron admitted apprehensively.

"But you haven't been listening," Mrs. Granger pointed out.

"Because I want it to come from _me_," Ron confessed quietly, voicing for the first time why he'd been so hesitant to ask in the first place.

"It _is_ from you," Mrs. Granger insisted. "It absolutely is. Just think about it, dear." With that, she patted his hand and stood up, walking back down the hallway toward her husband's room.

Ron sighed heavily and pocketed the ring again. He knew she was right; everyone had been right. But they weren't the ones that were proposing—he was, and it just wasn't as straightforward as it should have been.

A few moments later, he heard footsteps coming from the far end of the hall. This time, it was Hermione. She was wearing her winter coat and rubbing her eyes furiously. Though it seemed that the tears themselves were long gone, she looked rather worn out.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked, standing up.

Hermione bit her lip nervously before speaking: "I think I'm just going to go home. Why don't you stay at Grimmauld Place tonight?"

Ron frowned immediately. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No, not at all," Hermione assured him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as if to say the opposite. "I just won't be a lot of fun to be around tonight, that's all. I've already used my mum's mobile to call for a taxi to come pick me up. I don't much feel like apparating or taking the bus."

"So what?" Ron asked defiantly, hugging her back just as fiercely.

"So you've spent all day in this hospital, and you've been here for me while I've been a mess," Hermione said gently. "You ought to relax a bit. I'll come over first thing tomorrow so we can go to the Burrow together for brunch."

"You ought to relax, too," Ron insisted, but Hermione appeared to have made up her mind already.

"I'm going to take the taxi home and watch some bad television to take my mind off things. You should go out and have some fun," she declared. "When was the last time you and Harry spent some time together?"

"Harry and I live and work together," Ron replied, doing his best to keep from rolling her eyes. "But if you want to be alone…"

"Well, no one _wants_ to be alone, but I think it's for the best tonight," Hermione said, a little sadly.

"Hermione…" Ron pleaded. If only he could tell her she was being mental without setting off her temper.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she replied, leaning in and kissing him softly. "I love you, Ron."

"Love you too," he sighed, squeezing her hand once more. She smiled softly, then turned on her heel and made her way down the hall.

Once she was out of sight, Ron walked slowly back toward Mr. Granger's room, intending to say goodbye before heading back to Grimmauld Place—the place that wasn't supposed to be home anymore, he thought ironically. He'd just entered the room and seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger's questioning looks when he realized what a terrible plan that was.

"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered to himself. He shook his head as if to clear it, then addressed the now very confused Grangers: "There's no way she really wants to be alone; I'm going after her. I'm glad you're doing alright, Mr. Granger."

Mrs. Granger looked as though she was on the verge of tears, and Mr. Granger nodded meaningfully. "You're a good man, Ron."

"Thank you," Ron said absentmindedly. He waved awkwardly, then turned on his heel and sprinted down the hallway as fast as he could. If he went fast enough, maybe he could catch her before she got in one of those damn taxi-things…

After nearly running into several people, actually running into a couple of walls, and shouting hurried apologies the whole way, he finally made it out the main doors. It was nearly dark now, but he could just make out Hermione's silhouette down the street, about to get into a car…

"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted. "HERMIONE!" She swiveled around to face him, and he ran toward her as fast as he could. He had to stop her from going. He didn't know why it was so important to be with her tonight, but he knew that it was.

"What is it? Has something happened?" she asked immediately when he reached her side.

"No, everyone's fine," Ron said absentmindedly. He stuck his head inside the car that was still waiting. "Sorry, your services won't be needed," he told the irritated driver matter-of-factly before standing up straight and slamming the door shut. The taxi sped away immediately, leaving Ron with an annoyed Hermione on a dark, nearly-empty street.

"Ron," Hermione began reproachfully. "Honestly, I'll be fine. Have a night to yourself; I'm not going to be any fun to be around—"

"I don't care," Ron said emphatically, grabbing her hands and lacing her fingers with his.

"Listen, Ron—" she tried again, sighing heavily.

"No, you listen," he insisted fiercely. Something inside of him had snapped. _To hell with it._

"What on Earth…" Hermione met his eyes searchingly with her forehead crinkled and one of her eyebrows raised. She looked frustrated, tired, and so damn beautiful that Ron could hardly stand it.

"For better or for worse, right?" he said wildly. "Hermione, I don't care if you think you'll be downright _miserable _to be around. I'd much rather be watching bad television with you than doing anything else, and I'd much rather spend tonight cheering each other up than wallowing on our own in separate beds! Quite frankly, I don't ever want to sleep in separate beds again if we can help it! When are you going to get it through your head that I'm always gonna want to be with you, no matter what kind of shit is going on around us, or how irritable either of us is, or whatever else?"

"Ron…" Hermione said softly, but he cut in again before she could say anything else. This was it. He'd started down _that_ road, and there was no going back now. Really, there'd been no turning back for a long time. He didn't even care that he couldn't remember a damn word of the speech he'd so carefully practiced last night, he didn't care that this was the very definition of the wrong time, and he didn't care that they were on a chilly street outside of an entirely-too-clean muggle hospital, because everyone was right. He was overthinking it when really, it was so incredibly simple.

"Hermione," he exhaled with an elated laugh. It was so easy, how had he not seen it before? He took one last deep breath before continuing, in the most honest, heartfelt tone he'd ever used in his life.

"Hermione Jean Granger, I love you so fucking much. And I've been wanting to do this since I was seventeen, but it was never the right time or place, and hell, I'm pretty sure now's not the right time either, but I'm through with waiting. I—" he broke off then and looking imploringly into her eyes, which were beginning to fill with tears once again. But these seemed to be a much better kind of tears, and that made all the difference. Somehow, it gave him the courage to continue.

"I—you're _everything_, you know that? I mean, you're it for me, and you always have been, and I _really_ hope you feel the same way. I mean, I guess I know you do, you've said so anyway, but…you make everything better, you make me better, and I just—Hermione…"

He took a deep breath and tugged his hands out of hers so that he could reach into his jacket pocket. This was it. He was doing it, he really was. He felt almost disconnected from himself, but at the same time, he was certain he'd never been more aware of his every action. Pulling out the box, he bent down on one knee, taking extra care to make sure he didn't fall flat on his face in the process. When he carefully opened the box to reveal the ring, he could hear Hermione gasp audibly, and he looked up to meet her gaze. He wasn't surprised to find that his eyes were probably just as wet as hers.

"I love you," he said with a confidence he'd never known he had, but that he _had_ to have, because this was the one thing he knew without a doubt. His voice wavered only with the intensity of the emotion that felt as though it was coursing through every fiber of his being. "I love you more than anything, and I promise I always will. Hermione, will you marry me?"

It wasn't entirely perfect. His voice broke on the word marry, and he accidentally knelt in a puddle, and at least a dozen people on the otherwise deserted street had stopped to watch, but none of those things seemed to matter. Because no sooner than the words had left his lips, she'd run into him with such a force that it was a miracle he stayed upright. Leaning down and into him, she threw her arms around his neck and promptly began to sob into his hair. Ron snapped the box shut to protect the ring as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her more tightly than he ever had before and struggling to contain his own tears as he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

Eventually, she pulled back again, and their eyes met, their expressions saying much more than any of their words ever could. "So?" Ron asked quietly, bringing his hands back around so that he could once again present her with the ring.

"Yes," Hermione choked out through her tears. "Absolutely, yes!"

Ron could feel himself grin so widely that he was almost sure his face would break. He carefully took the ring out of the box and slid it onto the third finger of her left hand. He breathed a sigh of relief when it fit perfectly, even though he knew he'd charmed it so that it would.

"I love you," Hermione sobbed, tugging on his hands to pull him into the standing position. "I love you so much, Ron."

Ron could vaguely hear their small audience clapping in the background, but he paid them no mind. He wrapped his arms around Hermione again, relishing in the feel of her body so close to his, in the scent of her shampoo, in everything about her—everything, which she chose to share with _him_, of all people.

"We're getting married," he muttered in slight disbelief, because it turned out there was a huge difference between being pretty sure she'd say yes and actually hearing her agree to marry him.

"We are," he heard her whisper into his chest. Then, she pulled back a little, but only so that she could stand up on her tiptoes and kiss him full on the mouth.

He responded as he had the first time she'd done just that; he literally lifted her up off the ground as he kissed her back with all the passion and joy and love he felt in that moment, which was sure as hell a lot of all of those things. He only tried to pull away for air a few minutes later, but Hermione was having none of it—something Ron didn't mind in the slightest, since it meant they could keep kissing, which was probably his favorite activity in the whole world. Well, almost his favorite, anyway.

Finally, after what could have been hours for all Ron knew, Hermione pulled back and found her footing again. "We're in public, aren't we?" she asked quietly, not willing to open her eyes yet.

"S'pose so," Ron answered with an easy laugh as he brought his hands to her face and brushed his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. "Sorry I asked you in public."

"Don't you even think about apologizing for a single ounce of this, Ronald Weasley," Hermione scolded him with a broad smile, her eyes finally fluttering open as his hands slid down to rest on her shoulders. He couldn't help but laugh blissfully again after seeing the pure joy reflected in them. "How long have you had that ring in your pocket?"

"Since I came over to your—_our_—flat last night," Ron admitted, "but I bought it last summer."

"Last summer?" Hermione asked in amazement. "You…"

"Idiot?" Ron supplied helpfully.

"No. A bit daft at times, maybe, but mostly? You're wonderful, loving, supportive, and perfect, that's what you are," Hermione said affectionately, leaning in to kiss him swiftly but soundly once again.

Ron laughed giddily when they broke apart. "We're getting _married._"

Hermione's grin broadened, a feat Ron hadn't thought was possible. "You said that already."

"Well yeah, but it's so much fun to say, try it!"

"We're getting _married_."

Ron grinned. "Try it louder, like you mean it!"

"We're getting MARRIED!" Hermione shouted, and they immediately collapsed into childish giggles. It had been a long time since he'd laughed this much—maybe it was because he simply couldn't smile any wider, so his mouth chose to laugh instead. Wondering how in the hell he got so lucky, he couldn't help but lean in to kiss Hermione one more time.

"Still want to spend the night apart?" Ron teased when they reluctantly separated several moments later.

"I'm afraid you convinced me otherwise," she said coyly, a statement which could only be followed by more kissing.

"Wanna go back in and tell your parents quick?" Ron asked when they came up for air. "I'm sure it'll cheer them right up, yeah?"

"Yes, please," Hermione said, wrapping an arm about his waist as they turned back toward the hospital. He responded with an arm around her shoulders. It wasn't the best way to walk anywhere, but neither of them was about to let go of the other one. "But why does it need to be quick?" she asked curiously.

"Well, we've got some personal matters to attend to, haven't we?" Ron asked suggestively, giving her an exaggerated wink.

Hermione blushed and giggled again. "Right," she said simply. "Quick is good."

"This part is quick," Ron corrected her hastily. "The part after won't be."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow up as they reached the doorway. "How thoughtful of you."

"Only the best for the future Mrs. Weasley," Ron quipped, unable to keep his remaining disbelief out of his voice. _He was marrying Hermione. She said yes. They were getting __**married!**_

"Mrs. Weasley's your Mum's name," Hermione protested, wrinkling her nose as she stepped through the door Ron had courteously opened for her.

"Fine. The future Hermione Weasley, how's that sound?" he corrected himself with a smile as he followed her through the entrance.

"That sounds perfect," she said quietly, stopping abruptly in her tracks before turning around and reaching up to pull his face down to hers. Eventually, they would make it back into the room to tell her parents, and tomorrow, they would head to the Burrow to tell his family. But right now, it was just between them. And the dozen people that had overheard them on the street, but neither of them could be bothered by that. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were getting married, and everything was just as it should be.

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A/N: Whew! That's by far the longest thing I've ever written. Weirdly, it got more than a thousand words **longer **after editing. Just so you know, I'm headed back to school in a couple of days, so the updates won't come quite so quickly—but there are only four chapters left now, can you believe it? As for this chapter…I hope you liked it, especially considering the ridiculous amount of build-up to this point. I am equal parts excited and nervous to post this, but I look forward to your feedback as always. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Also – a very happy Easter to all of you who celebrate it. Have a blessed holiday. :)


	17. Grimmauld

A/ N: I'm really sorry this took so long. Seriously. I suck. I really hate going without updating for more than a couple of weeks. School happened and then this chapter wouldn't behave, and it was all very frustrating. But please rest assured that I will work to get you the last few chapters as soon as I reasonably can. :)

Also: thank you all so much for your incredible response to the last chapter - I am overwhelmed with Romione love. You're all so awesome, and I've really enjoyed hearing from and chatting with all of you. It's been really cool as well to meet some new people on tumblr as a result of this fic - my url is ronaldweasleycountmein, please feel free to message me anytime about anything. :) I love you all, internet strangers/friends. You're making me really sad that there are only four chapters left of this story to share!

By the way - for those of you who may not know, I posted a short outtake a couple of weeks ago. It's called "The Rest of Our Lives," if you want to check it out. It is definitely part of the Firsts and Lasts world; I just couldn't find anywhere to put it in the actual story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I did recently download a different version of Word to my laptop and it's really throwing me off because it doesn't do dashes right. This may be my computer's way of telling me I use too many dashes.

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"The Last Night in Grimmauld Place"

9 March 2002

Ron sighed dramatically as he tossed the last of his clothes into his Hogwarts trunk, which his mum had dug out from who-knows-where at the Burrow so that he'd have something to throw all of this things in as he moved from Grimmauld Place into Hermione's flat. While most of the essentials had been there for a long time, it turned out he had a lot of belongings tucked away in the corners of his room that needed to be either moved or thrown away. In the two weeks that had passed since they'd officially decided to live together, Ron had hauled three trunks full of stuff over to Hermione's flat. Naturally, she'd convinced him to throw away about two-thirds of it, because "really, Ron, at what point in your adult life will you need your 1989 Marvin the Muggle comics?"

Now, Ron had taken some of the things that were meant to be thrown away back to his room at the Burrow for safe keeping, including the comic book, which was actually called "The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle" and was really quite valuable, whatever Hermione might have thought. At any rate, the whole thing had been a tedious process and he was quite glad to be finishing up the last bit of packing before they added his name to the lease on Monday morning, at which point he and Hermione would officially begin cohabitating.

In some ways, Ron couldn't believe it had only been two weeks since she'd asked him to move in with her. In a lot of ways, he couldn't believe it had been two weeks since he'd asked her to marry him. It seemed to Ron that things had always been this way, in a manner of speaking. He'd been staying most nights at her flat for years, and really, he was always going to marry her. But now, everything was official in a way that was strange and brilliant and somehow, completely and utterly normal. Nothing was really changing, at least not yet. Ron supposed some things would be different when they got married, but only in a good way. But for now, at least, the only things that had changed were that he could now refer to Hermione as his fiancée and that he would no longer have to pop back to Grimmauld Place, which he had already begun referring to in his head as Harry and Ginny's place, to get some clean clothes every now and then.

Nevertheless, Hermione had insisted that he spend one last night at Grimmauld Place before the move became official. She had been very vague as to why, something about "fitting" and "old time's sake," but Ron had his suspicions that it had more to do with the gossip gathering she was hosting at their flat at the moment. Of course, he'd got an earful when he'd made the mistake of referring to it as a "gossip gathering" in front of her, but that was in essence what it was. She'd invited Ginny, Angelina, Audrey, and even Fleur over for the night. Hermione insisted it was a celebration of Fleur and Audrey's recently announced pregnancies, but Ron knew better. The mere fact that they had strictly forbidden any men from attending told him all he needed to know: it was a gossip gathering, and there was nothing Hermione could say to convince him otherwise.

At any rate, Ron's plans for the night included finishing up the last of his packing and going to bed early. It had been a long week at work, after all; at least, that's what he told himself to explain why he, a twenty-two year old man, was planning to go to bed at eight-thirty on a Saturday night. Nevertheless, Ron was willing to happily follow through on his plan, and at twenty past eight, was even about to change into his pyjamas. That is, until Harry barged in at about eight-twenty-two.

"Ready, mate?" Harry asked, a wide grin on his face.

"For what?" Ron asked bemusedly as he threw the last of his jumpers into his trunk.

"Your stag night," Harry replied, as though it were obvious. "Didn't I tell you?"

Ron stared blankly in response, blinking very slowly. "Come again?"

"Stag night," Harry repeated, more insistently this time. "Guess I forgot to mention it. Oh well, you know now, so hurry up. We're meeting your brothers in about ten minutes."

"Stag night?" Ron replied incredulously, making no move in Harry's direction. "You do realize the wedding's more than a year away?"

"Yeah, but you're moving in with Hermione tomorrow," Harry replied with the tone of someone talking to an ignorant child. "Your life as a bachelor effectively ends tonight. Besides, all our wives are at _your_ fiancée's flat, so we were going to go out anyway."

"I've never had a bachelor's life," Ron muttered, trying in vain to recall the last time he'd even wanted such a life. Nevertheless, he followed Harry out the door and down the stairs. A drink with his brothers didn't sound half bad, after all. One slightly uncomfortable bout of Apparition and a short walk later, they found themselves walking into the Leaky Cauldron to be greeted by a loud roar from the far left corner of the pub.

"I think they've been here awhile," Ron remarked, grinning as he took in the slightly slurred voices and over-excited expressions that characterized his brothers at the moment.

"Must have done," Harry chuckled. "Go on, I'll bring you a drink."

Ron knew it was no use arguing to pay his own way tonight, so he followed Harry's instructions and made his way toward the four redheaded men seated in the corner.

"I didn't even know you were in town, Charlie!" Ron said accusingly once they were within earshot.

"Surprised Mum and Dad last night!" Charlie replied triumphantly, rising from his seat to give Ron a one-armed embrace. "Least, that's why I'm here as far as they know. Bill owled me a few days ago about this do and there was no way I was gonna miss my baby brother's stag. Could have done with more warning, though."

"I had no idea myself," Ron replied, sliding into a seat beside Bill, who ruffled his hair affectionately. Ron would have reminded him that he was twenty-two, but he knew it'd be no good anyway. "This doesn't make any sense, you know. I'm not getting married for - "

"More than a year, we know," Bill said, rolling his eyes. "But this was most convenient, so this is what you're getting, at least for now. Where'd our brother-in-law run off to?"

"Drinks," Ron replied shortly.

"Perfect," George said triumphantly. "OI! HARRY! Bring another round for all of us, will you?"

"Really now?" Percy scolded half-heartedly. "Some of us have wives to go home to tonight..."

"But Ron doesn't," George said. "And that's the point of this whole thing, in case you hadn't noticed. Celebrating Ron's last night of freedom!"

"Come off it," Ron groaned. "I've essentially been living with Hermione for months now-"

"Oh, Ronnie boy," George sighed, shaking his head. "So naive, this one. Tell him, Bill."

"Ron, it doesn't matter when the wedding date is," Bill said knowledgably. "The second you've completely moved in with Hermione, your domestic life begins."

"And we aren't saying that's a bad thing," Percy said hurriedly, looking over his shoulder as though he half expected Audrey to be standing behind him with a pitchfork.

"Not in the least," Bill affirmed. "It's wonderful, really, but it's different. Ah, there we are; thanks Harry!"

The conversation paused for a moment as they all took a drink. Ron chugged nearly half of his firewhiskey in one go; he had a feeling he'd be needing it for the conversation that was to follow.

"Anyway, be prepared is all we're saying," Bill said emphatically as he put his drink back on the table.

"Prepared for what?" Harry asked as he took a seat across from Ron.

"Domestic life," George said knowingly. "When Angie moved in, I tell you - "

"You and Angelina are living together?" Ron interrupted incredulously. "Managed to slip that one past the rest of us, did you?"

"Well, we didn't want to make a fuss," George replied defensively. Though George had often been the type to stick his nose into everyone else's business, he had always kept the nature of his relationship with Angelina quite private. However, he had confessed to Ron a few months prior, at Harry and Ginny's wedding, that he intended to marry her someday. Even if he hadn't announced that he and Angelina had moved in together, it didn't really surprise Ron one bit.

"And what you're doing for me now, is this not a fuss?" Ron asked skeptically.

"Ron, this is your stag night," Charlie cut in exasperatedly. "Don't fight it."

"I'm not getting married for - "

"A year," the others chorused.

"Just shut up, Ron," George advised. "Now, as your older and wiser brothers, we ought to offer you a bit of advice, I'd say."

"Harry's younger -"

"And he's also married. To our sister, so no specifics, Potter," Charlie said, throwing Harry a warning look. "Bill, start us off?"

"I'd be honored," Bill said solemnly, and he turned to face Ron. "Little brother, I've been married for what, five years now? And it's brilliant. Fleur's a great girl, you know, I've got a beautiful daughter, and another on the way - proof that I still get laid, see."

At this, Charlie guffawed loudly and George let out a catcall. Percy looked merely amused, and Harry laughed uncomfortably.

"My best advice to you might be to marry a veela," Bill continued matter-of-factly, "but since you seem to be pretty set on Hermione I'll just tell you this: when your wife is happy, you're happy. Don't piss her off over things that aren't worth it."

The others muttered their agreement, but Ron privately disagreed. He'd never admit it out loud, especially not to his brothers, but he sort of liked getting Hermione riled up every now and then. So long as he didn't push it too far, she looked brilliant with her hair all wild and her eyes all fiery - and generally, she could see right through him and it led exactly where he wanted it to.

"I may not be married," Charlie cut in, interrupting Ron's train of thought, "but I like to think I know a thing or two about women."

"Oh no," Percy muttered under his breath, but Charlie valiantly ignored him.

"Right, so you and Hermione have been fucking for how long now, three or four years?"

"Okay, you're done!" Ron bellowed, his short temper getting the best of him. "Me and Hermione's sex life is not up for discussion, not now, not ever!"

"Little defensive there, aren't we Ronnie?" George smirked, taking another swig of his firewhiskey.

"This is what a stag night is _for,_ Ron," Charlie insisted.

"Rag on me all you want. She's off limits," Ron replied firmly. "Besides, we'd all regret that conversation in the morning," he added, glancing at Harry's slightly revolted expression.

"Unlikely," George said flippantly.

"Whatever," Charlie continued. "Not as if I'm going to go into detail, mind. All I was going to say was you oughta shake things up a bit now and then, yeah? 'Specially once you enter this domestic phase."

"What he's saying does have some merit, Ron," Percy added sincerely. "Perhaps he could have been less crude, but it's important to do something romantic every now and then. For example, Audrey loves theatre, so we go to a play together every month or so. It's quite nice, really."

"That," Charlie said emphatically to the general laughter of all, "is not what I was saying at all."

The evening continued on pleasantly. Ron specifically ignored all of George's attempts at advice, and laughed at Harry's blatant attempts to avoid talking about his own marriage in the presence of all of his wife's brothers. Firewhiskey was consumed all around, and eventually the conversation turned to the much-safer topic of Quidditch. Naturally, after awhile things began to get hazy and words began to slur.

"Hermione's so...soft," Ron found himself saying sometime in the middle of his third drink (or was it the fourth?), though he wasn't entirely aware that words were actually coming out of his mouth. He was speaking only to Harry at this point, as the other four were playing a game of exploding snap at the next table over. "So soft and pretty and warm and nice."

Harry had a goofy grin on his face. "Yeah, mate, but she's like...my sister, or something."

"What?" Ron said slowly, for he had forgotten for a moment that he'd been talking to Harry at all. "No, you married _my_ sister. I don't know why though, she's mean and her hair is really boring."

"Oi," Harry slurred indignantly, leaning over the table to bop Ron on the head. "Don't talk about my wife like that."

"You even act like her now!" Ron moaned. A thought occurred to him then: "Hey...Harry. Harry."

"What?" Harry asked, leaning in intently.

"Do I act like...like her?" Ron whispered urgently.

"What?" Harry repeated insistently.

"Do I act like her? Hermione?" Ron asked again, more loudly this time.

"Of course you like her! You're marrying her, anyway" Harry answered confusedly, finishing off the last of his drink. "What?"

"Never mind," Ron replied, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what exactly he'd asked in the first place.

"Ron!" Harry suddenly exclaimed with a sense of urgency that nearly knocked Ron off his seat.

"What is it, mate?" Ron pulled his wand out and turned about, brandishing it wildly as he looked around for any sort of threat.

"You're going to live with Hermione!" Harry said, slamming his hand down on the table to emphasize his point.

"Well, yeah!" Ron replied, pocketing his wand after one last look around the pub.

"That means you aren't living with me then, are you?" Harry finished dramatically, banging the table once more for good measure.

"Well no, not unless you move into Hermione's too!" Ron said, still not sure where Harry was going with this.

"No, no, no, I live with Ginny!" Harry explained impatiently. "And you're living with Hermione! And we aren't living together!"

"But - oh," Ron said suddenly as it hit him. He and Harry had been living together for more than a decade, ever since their very first night at Hogwarts. "That's sort of strange then."

"You can come visit when you piss Hermione off," Harry told him sincerely.

"Hermione," Ron said, smiling at the sound of her name. "I love Hermione."

Harry started laughing maniacally at this. "What's so funny?" Ron insisted. "Harry, what's funny?"

"You and Hermione are getting married!" Harry replied in between guffaws. "Like me and Ginny, but you and Hermione!"

"Hermione," Ron said again, his grin widening.

"Ron and Hermione Weasley!" Harry chipped in, still laughing in earnest. "And you're going to live together and be married and have all frizzy-haired ginger babies!"

"What's so funny?" Ron asked. "Babies? Babies are funny, yeah, but I'm not having any _yet_!"

"Nothing's funny, it's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, reaching down the table to grab two half-finished drinks and offering one to Ron. "To you marrying Hermione!"

"Hermione!" Ron repeated unwittingly, clinking his drink with Harry's before downing it in one gulp.

_The Next Morning_

Ron groaned as he shifted a bit in bed. Everything hurt. Especially his head. He wasn't entirely sure where he was or how he got there, but the thought of opening his eyes to check was far too much to contemplate at the moment. He vaguely remembered firewhiskey - a lot of firewhiskey. Oh yeah, it'd been his stag night. All of his brothers had been there. That explained the amount of firewhiskey, anyway. Harry had been there, too...where was Harry now? Where was _he_?

Somewhere beyond the world of his pounding head, Ron could hear the sound of a door opening and closing. A moment later, he felt the mattress next to him sink a little and someone's hand running softly through his hair. He managed to smile despite the aching of every muscle in his body.

"Water, dear?" came the voice attached to the hand.

Ron nodded and reached blindly toward the voice, which then chuckled a little. "You'll have to sit up, love."

"Hermione," Ron croaked in recognition.

"Yes, that's me. Sit up, please," she said kindly but firmly.

"No," Ron replied petulantly.

"Just enough so you can take a drink," Hermione persuaded.

"Ugh. Drinks," Ron moaned, remembering the source of his current pain.

"Water will help," Hermione said sympathetically, bringing her hand to the side of his face. Ron could feel the cool silver of her engagement ring against his cheek, and this gave him the strength of mind to open his eyes. Ouch. Light hurt. A moment later, things began to slide into focus and he saw Hermione's face smiling down at him.

"Morning," Ron said hoarsely.

"Water," Hermione replied insistently, and Ron obediently began to pull himself into a sitting position, a task that took far more effort than it probably should have. Once he'd managed it, he reached out toward Hermione once again. This time, she handed him a glass of water, which he downed in one gulp and handed back to her for a refill. She made quick use of the _Aguamenti _charm, and he gratefully drank another glass.

"Had a good night, then?" Hermione asked when he'd finally finished attempting to rehydrate himself.

"No idea," Ron quipped.

Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Harry said you all overdid it a bit on the firewhiskey."

"How's he?" Ron asked, rubbing his temples slowly.

"Only a bit better than you, last I saw him," Hermione replied. "He's actually been down to the kitchen this morning, though I think he'd have stayed in bed if he'd had his way."

"Ginny?" Ron guessed.

Hermione nodded. "He said last night was meant to be your stag night."

"Apparently," Ron said. "Bit ridiculous, isn't it?"

"Yes, considering there's more than a year left until the wedding," Hermione replied. "But Harry claims they're going to throw you another, when the actual date gets closer."

"You're kidding?" Ron groaned. The thought of consuming any more alcohol, _ever_, was downright abhorrent at the moment.

"You'll have changed your mind by then," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Dunno. I had a _lot_," Ron said, his eyes widening a little as he strained to recall just how many empty glasses had been on the table when they'd left the pub. "This hangover may well last another year."

"Oh, stop," Hermione laughed, moving so that she was sitting next to him against the headboard. "You'll survive."

"Debatable," Ron muttered, but he moved his left hand so that it was intertwined with her right.

"What's this?" Hermione asked interestedly, bringing their clasped hands to her face so she could examine them more closely.

"What's what?" Ron asked, sliding his eyes shut again.

"This," Hermione insisted, poking at his ring finger.

"What?" Ron repeated, opening his eyes to see for himself: on his left ring finger was a mess of spellotape and string, and it was all marked up with some sort of black ink. "I've got no idea."

"How did you not notice?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"I might have, y'know, if my head hadn't been throbbing," Ron replied sarcastically.

"That's your own fault," Hermione said dismissively, pulling his hand closer to her face. "What on earth?"

At that moment, a knock came from the door and Harry ducked his head in. "Alright, mate?"

"No," Ron said pointedly, glaring at his best friend as he moved across the room to take a seat on the edge of the bed. "How come you haven't got it as bad?"

"Ginny got me a potion," Harry replied. "She's got an agenda to accomplish today, apparently, and it didn't involve me lying in bed with a hangover."

"And of course you didn't," Ron said, turning to face Hermione. He tried his best to look annoyed, but he knew he was probably failing miserably. Hermione, however, didn't even glance in his direction, still enthralled with the mess on his ring finger.

"No, those are far too much money. We're meant to be saving for our wedding," Hermione replied absently. "Harry, do you remember where Ron got this?" she asked, brandishing Ron's left hand in Harry's face.

Harry frowned for a moment, then began to laugh. "Oh, I almost forgot about that!"

"Mind filling me in? I don't remember shit," Ron asked, a bit agitatedly.

"Well, George tried to get us to go to one of those...y'know..." Harry cast a wary glance at Hermione before continuing. "_Gentlemen's_ clubs."

Hermione only tutted disapprovingly, but Ron groaned loudly. "Naturally, that fucker. Did we though? I think I'd remember as much."

"Nah, you threw a fit," Harry said, grinning broadly at the memory. "I believe your exact words were, 'the only tits I want to see are my fiancee's.' Sorry, Hermione," Harry added apologetically, the tips of his ears darkening.

Hermione, for her part, managed to remain unflustered - or not noticeably embarrassed, at any rate. "Right, so then?" she prompted, tapping Ron's ring finger again.

"Well, like I said, Ron didn't want to go. Then George, or maybe it was Charlie, I dunno, made some stupid comment - said something like they didn't see a ring on his finger. Well, that pushed Ron off the deep end, so he went and asked Tom, the barkeep, you know, for a ring. He didn't have one, of course, but Ron came back with a roll of spellotape and wrapped it around his finger, as you can see. Conjured the string for good measure, stole a quill and tried to write 'Property of Hermione' on it as well, but that didn't work out either, clearly. It was hilarious. Even better, turns out George was never completely serious about the club, either," Harry said, laughing at the memory. Ron, on the other hand, was mortified.

"You're kidding," he said in denial.

"Afraid not," Harry replied. "Anyway, Ginny says you two ought to come by for dinner tonight. 'To celebrate Ron finally moving out,' she says."

"What a gem," Ron said sarcastically, rolling his eyes at his sister's sense of humor.

"We'll be there," Hermione told Harry.

"Great. I'll leave you to it, then," Harry said, grinning broadly at his friends before leaving the room.

"You're sweet, you know," Hermione remarked conversationally once they were alone, leaning her head onto Ron's shoulder as he began to unravel the string from around his finger.

"I'm a blathering drunken idiot, is what you mean," he replied, grappling on the bedside table for his wand; the spellotape wasn't budging. He tapped the wand on his finger experimentally, careful not to blow his hand apart.

"No, you're sweet," Hermione insisted. "Lots of men would use their drunken idiocy as an excuse to go to one of those clubs, but you didn't, and I very much appreciate that."

"Well, I didn't want to go," Ron said dismissively. "Besides, I can't possibly be sweet for something I don't remember doing."

"Well, I think it's nice that you tried to make a ring," Hermione argued. "They have a point, you know; the fact that only women wear engagement rings is a bit sexist, isn't it? The man is just as much betrothed as she is, after all."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked bemusedly as he finally dislodged the mass of string and spellotape from his ring finger, only to find more ink. With an exaggerated sigh, he siphoned it off with his wand and wiggled his finger around a bit. It was quite stiff.

"Never mind," Hermione said. "Just take the compliment, will you?"

"I dunno what you're even complimenting me for," Ron replied, sliding his eyes shut and wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder and using the other to rub at his head again.

"You're a good person, Ron," Hermione said after a moment of silence. "I'm glad I'm marrying you, that's all."

"Mm. Me too," Ron said absentmindedly. "My trunk's all packed, by the way."

"Yes, that's why I came over here in the first place," Hermione replied. "I figured we could bring the last of your things over to the flat, and then..."

"Then what?" Ron asked, frowning as she trailed off. He reopened his eyes and turned to appraise her expression; she was blushing lightly and looked a bit sheepish.

"Well, I had some ideas," Hermione began, bringing her free hand up to his chest and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which he had evidently not bothered to shed before collapsing into bed the night before. "You know, to..._christen_ the place."

Ron was quite certain his ears must have perked up comically at her suggestive tone. "Yeah?"

"I understand if you're knackered, though," she continued, but Ron interrupted her by leaning over and planting a brief kiss on her lips.

"Reckon I can work up the strength," Ron quipped. "I'm curious though, haven't we christened just about every corner of that flat?"

"Not quite," Hermione replied mischieviously, her blush deepening. "Like I said, I've got some ideas."

"I love it when you have ideas," Ron said, a grin spreading on his face. The headache didn't seem to matter anymore, not in the least. "Shall we?"

"Alright then," Hermione agreed, her eyes twinkling. "To our flat, then."

"To our flat," Ron said contentedly, leaning in and kissing her once again. And they would make it to their flat...eventually.

* * *

A/N: I can't say this has been one of my favorite chapters. It gave me a lot of trouble, and I'm still not thrilled about it. However, I think a bit of a light-hearted interlude fits at this point in the story in some ways. This is sort of a filler chapter between the high excitement of the proposal chapter and the plot-driven, slightly dramatic next chapter. Only three chapters left now! I'm excited about the chapters that are coming up, but it's bittersweet to see this fic enter the "beginning of the end" stage. I've been working on it for about ten months now, and it's sort of become my baby.

Anyway, as always thank you all for your outstanding support and all the kind words you've shared with me. I promise the next chapter will come faster than this one did - and I anticipate better quality as well, to be quite honest. Thank you :)


	18. Job

A/N: Thank you all for your continued kindness! :) I want to reach through the internet and hug you all.

Since last time, I've posted a couple of one-shots for Ollivander's Challenge by simplypotterheads on tumblr. One's called "My Brother's Keeper" and the other is called "Like Soldiers." The first is Ron-centric, focusing on his relationships with Bill and George, and the second focuses on Ron/Hermione. They're available to read on this site if you're interested - just so you know. :)

To counter my self-promotion, I'll give you a recommendation - "To Know You Is To Love You" by CoyoteLaughingSoftly. Read it, love it, cry about Romione's perfection - all in a day's work.

Disclaimer: I've been J.K. Rowling all along, obviously.

* * *

"The Last Day of the First Job"

10 October 2002

Hermione felt a little ridiculous as she paced back and forth outside the door to her own flat. But it wasn't just her flat anymore; it was Ron's too, and it had been for more than half a year. He would be inside now - perhaps just finishing up the afternoon nap he always took after working the early shift. Hermione had originally half-heartedly scolded him for this practice, worrying that he wouldn't be able to get to sleep at a normal hour if he took a midday nap, but she soon learned that Ron possessed the innate ability to sleep for twelve hours out of every twenty-four if he was given the opportunity. Maybe he would still be asleep, and she would be able to put off the conversation she was dreading just a little while longer...

No, she was being silly. She glanced down at the beautiful ring on her left ring finger, anxiously twisting it a bit. That ring meant they were going to be married, and they were going to face their lives together. This was simply the beginning of that, and there was no sense in running away from it. With that thought in mind, Hermione finally gathered the courage to open the door.

Ron was not asleep, as she'd momentarily hoped, but busy in the kitchen area of their cozy little flat. "Hello, love!" he called brightly, turning to beam at her as she placed her coat and shoes neatly in their proper places. "How was work?"

"Fine," Hermione said hurriedly, returning his smile with one of her own, though she knew it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Are you cooking?"

Ron nodded, looking quite pleased with himself. "I thought I'd surprise you and make dinner. It's not done yet, my nap went a bit long, but you don't mind spaghetti?"

"Sounds lovely. Thank you," Hermione replied, setting her briefcase down on the table and moving to kiss him on the cheek.

"Of course. Just remember this grand show of domesticity the next time I've left my pants on the bedroom floor," he said, turning to grin at her again. This time, she was a bit too slow to return it, and his smile immediately became a look of concern. "Everything alright?"

Hermione nodded hurriedly. "It's fine."

"No it's not," Ron said simply, seeing right through her facade, just as she knew he would. "What is it?"

"Can we talk about it over dinner?" Hermione asked, sighing deeply and cursing his skills of perception. He'd always been fairly acute, as demonstrated by his affinity for chess, but since they'd left school, his emotional awareness had caught up as well.

"Okay," Ron agreed, eyeing her warily before turning back to the pot on the stove. "It'll be ready in five minutes or so."

"Perfect," Hermione said, kissing him once more, on the side of the mouth this time, before retreating to the bedroom for a change of clothes.

Deciding quickly that tonight would be the type that would require comfortable clothing, Hermione selected her favorite fuzzy green pajama bottoms and an old jumper of Ron's. She then moved to the mirror and muttered a spell to remove the little makeup she had applied that morning. Observing her reflection as she attempted to control and tie back her hair, she noted that she looked tired. No, not just tired - exhausted. It had been a long week as it was, and the weight of the decision she was being forced to make had been bearing down upon her all day. Sighing heavily, she twisted her ring anxiously once again as she made her way back into the kitchen, where Ron was busy setting the table.

"Merlin, you're sexy," he said by way of greeting, eyeing her choice of dress with a smirk. Hermione offered an eye roll and half a smile in return as she took her place at the table. "So?" Ron prompted once they were both settled, shoveling a large fork's worth of spaghetti into his mouth.

"How was your shift this morning?" Hermione asked instead of answering his implied question.

"The usual," Ron said shortly. "Now, something's up. Don't try to deny it."

Hermione took a large bite of her spaghetti, chewing slowly to buy herself time. Once she'd swallowed, she raised her eyes to meet Ron's, which had grown increasingly worried the further she'd dragged the process out. "I got a job offer today," she said slowly. "A promotion, technically."

"That's brilliant!" he replied automatically. "Quite right, too, as you're the best they've got."

"I suppose," Hermione said, blushing a bit at his praise and lowering her eyes again.

"But there's a catch," Ron suggested knowingly.

"There's two," Hermione replied softly. She laid her fork down so that she could distract herself by wringing her hands together and twisting her ring again.

"What is it?" Ron pressed. "You're scaring me; you only do that thing with your ring when you're worried," he observed, gesturing toward her hands.

"Well, it's not exactly a voluntary promotion," Hermione replied slowly, her eyes trained on the ring rather than on Ron. "They've hired someone else to do my job already. The job I was offered today is the only open position in the department. If I don't take it, I don't have another option."

"Okay," Ron said cautiously. "So what's the job you were offered?"

"Head Ambassador," Hermione replied, her voice no more than a whisper. She finally gathered the courage to look up and gauge Ron's reaction: his face was set in a confused frown - it was as though he knew what the words meant, but didn't quite want to believe it. "It's a travelling position," she explained quickly when he didn't respond - though she knew he'd probably deduced as much himself, she couldn't take the silence. "I'd be in England most weekends, according to Mr. Cooper, but I'd be expected to represent the department internationally. I wouldn't have the time or money to come home very often."

Ron swallowed audibly. "Okay," he said slowly, setting his face into an expression of sheer determination. Hermione knew him well enough to recognize his pained expression - he was using a considerable amount of effort to remain calm. "Okay. We can make that work."

"Oh, no we can't!" Hermione whispered in despair. "We can't possibly - I'd be gone more than twenty days a month, Ron!"

"So what are you saying?" Ron asked in a low voice, his frown deepening.

"I don't want us to have a long-distance marriage, Ron! We'd be miserable," she moaned, burying her face into her hands, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Her spaghetti lay completely forgotten in front of her. The truth of the matter had been eating away at her all day; there was simply no way she could work abroad just as their life together was beginning. She internally cursed every senior member of her department, thinking the nasty words she'd been thinking since the meeting this afternoon, but never had the courage to say out loud.

The silence between them continued, but Hermione could not bring herself to look up. At last, she heard Ron's voice, gruff and low. "I understand," he said in a resigned tone. "I understand, but Hermione, _please _ - we've got to try, haven't we?"

His voice broke in the middle of this sentence, and Hermione felt her shoulders begin to shake. Tears were falling now, she simply couldn't stop them. "No. I can't," she sobbed, her voice muffled by her hands. "I...I can't."

She heard Ron's chair scrape against the floor, and a moment later she felt him kneel beside her. "Hermione," he said urgently, rubbing her knee comfortingly. "Hermione, look at me."

Taking a shaking breath through her sobs, she at last lowered her hands and turned to face him, but she could hardly stand it - he looked _broken_. But why...oh. In a rush of realization, her mind caught up with his and she began damage control.

"I can't take the job," she clarified through her tears. "Oh, Ron, you didn't think-"

"I didn't know what to think," Ron said defensively, but he softened his tone as she began a fresh round of tears. "Oh, Hermione..." He pulled on her hands and guided her across the room to sit on the more comfortable sofa. He knelt in front of her, still holding onto her hands so that she couldn't hide again. He rubbed them soothingly as he waited for her to speak, knowing her well enough to understand that once she'd calmed down, she'd have plenty to say.

"Ron, I would never-" she choked out a minute later, when the tears began to subside. She squeezed his right hand hard with her left, so that he could feel her engagement ring press against his skin. "You have to know by now, I would _never_-"

"I know, I know," he assured her. "I do, I know."

"We're getting _married_, Ron," Hermione managed to say. "I could never take a position that kept me away from you, especially not now."

"Hermione, I know," Ron said more firmly. "I'm sorry, I jumped to conclusions, and..."

"No, I'm sorry," Hermione insisted, sniffing loudly as the last of her tears began to dry. "I should have been more clear; I'm just upset to be losing my job."

Ron was quiet for a moment before continuing in a fierce voice, "I mean what I said, Hermione. If you want to take it, don't let me hold you back. You know we can make it work, if that's what you want."

Hermione wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop belittling himself, to smack the idiocy straight out of him. But she didn't; instead, she leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I want _you_," she said firmly when she pulled away. "Please, don't ever doubt that."

"Sorry," Ron muttered embarrassedly. "I know, Hermione, you know I trust you."

"It's okay," Hermione said softly. She had accepted long ago that Ron was the type that needed reassurance every now and then, and she didn't mind providing it. And besides, she'd probably have jumped to the same conclusions had the situation been reversed. The fact of the matter was that no matter how much trust and love they had between them, they were both acutely aware of just how much they were capable of hurting each other. They hadn't in a long time, and they had promised that they wouldn't ever again, but the fear of such a pain would never fully evaporate.

Giving Ron a small, encouraging smile, Hermione tugged on his hands so that he would sit next to her on the sofa. He obliged, wrapping an arm around her as she automatically cuddled into his side.

"I just don't know what to do," Hermione admitted. "I - I don't want to be unemployed, but Mr. Cooper made it perfectly clear that this was my only option within the department."

"When do you have to decide by?" Ron asked.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Hermione replied. "Twenty-four hours after the offer was made, you see. But it doesn't matter, I'd decided before I'd left the conference room, really."

"Okay," Ron said simply, squeezing her lightly but reassuringly. "So you go to a different department, yeah? You're brilliant, you won't have a problem getting in anyplace you please."

"I don't know," Hermione said quietly, as the truth of why she was so upset burned in the forefront of her thoughts. "I suppose I haven't got another choice, have I? It's just...the progress I was making, Ron, with S.P.E.W. and everything else...I was doing something so good in this job, and I just don't know how to go on with it outside of the department."

"This is such bullshit," Ron declared. "With all that you've done for them, what right do they have to give you an ultimatum?"

"It's a personnel issue, Ron," she replied sadly. "It's not really fair, but they've got to do what they see fit to make the department run as best it can."

"No, it's bullshit," Ron insisted, and Hermione didn't have the energy to argue - besides, though she understood the nature of the decision, she was inclined to agree with him on some level.

They settled into a comfortable silence. Ron rubbed slow circles on her arm with his fingers, and Hermione reciprocated by tracing patterns on his chest through his soft, cotton shirt.

"What if I can't find something that makes me feel like that?" she murmured doubtfully after a few moments.

"Feel like what?" Ron asked, a tenderness in his voice that hadn't quite been there before.

"Feel like I'm doing something worth doing," Hermione clarified.

Ron turned to look at her then, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that never failed to send her heart into a frenzy. "You'll make it worth doing," he said sincerely. "You're_ Hermione_, and you're very nearly a Weasley. I'd take those odds any day, love."

Rather than speak, Hermione pulled Ron into a tight embrace, squeezing him as firmly as she could and smiling as he returned the favor.

"I love you," she said simply, because though this was just the beginning of what she felt for him, she could not for the life of her think of any better words to express what he meant to her. She loved every part of him, including his silly humor, but she was incredibly grateful for this sensitive, mature side of him, which only she ever truly got to see.

"I'm sorry to put us through this now," she lamented as she pulled back, but Ron shook his head.

"This is hardly the worst thing we've had to face," he replied with a small grin.

"Still, twenty-three's a bit young to be having a mid-life crisis, especially as we've got a wedding to pay for," she said doubtfully.

"First off, it hardly counts as a mid-life crisis. But Hermione, I don't care if we get married by Peeves in the Shrieking Shack, so long as the marrying part happens," Ron said sincerely.

"I don't think Peeves can leave the castle, you know. Though I appreciate the sentiment," she added before Ron could protest. He simply rolled his eyes and silenced her with a brief, loving kiss - the kind of kiss she'd seen her dad give her mum when she was little, and the kind of kiss she hoped Ron would never stop giving her.

"Speaking of the wedding," Ron said eagerly when he pulled away, "I took a look at some of the planning stuff before my nap this afternoon. We could have a look now, if you're up for it?"

Hermione nodded gratefully, happy to have something better to focus on than her impending unemployment. "And we've got some spaghetti to finish, I believe. Oh, I do hope it didn't get cold."

"It won't have," Ron said as they moved back toward the table. "Two-hour heating charm. Old trick of Mum's, and dead useful."

"Could have told me about it sooner," Hermione muttered indignantly, but Ron pretended not to hear her as he retreated to the bedroom to find the folder they'd been using to keep their wedding plans straight.

The ceremony was about eight months away now, and they were just finishing the beginning stages of planning. It had been decided fairly quickly that the ceremony and reception would take place at the Burrow, much to Mrs. Weasley's delight, and they had agreed upon the 21st of June as the date. Hermione had also chosen blue as the wedding color, a shade that very closely matched Ron's eyes, and had suggested daisies as decoration, because she thought they went nicely with the color scheme. Ron, of course, hadn't particularly had an opinion on these matters, so they had been decided quickly as well.

The most exciting part of the planning thus far, however, would take place the following weekend; Hermione's mum was taking her dress shopping. Now, she had been shopping with her mum many times, but she could honestly say this was probably the first time she was truly looking forward to the experience for the purchase she would make rather than the company she would keep. As cliché as it was, she couldn't wait to find the perfect dress - the dress she'd marry Ron in.

"I think the guest list is about done," Ron began, interrupting her thoughts as he reentered the room. "It looks as though we're inviting about a hundred people, and quite frankly I didn't realize we even _knew_ that many, but Mum'll throw a fit if we don't invite my cousins, so I can't see it getting any lower."

"Okay," Hermione said. "We'll need to send out the invitations soon. There's no need to do a fancy design, of course, just the details about the ceremony and perhaps a photograph of the two of us."

"Have we got any good photographs?" Ron asked with a chuckle. "The one on the mantle's about three years old," he said, gesturing toward the moving picture that had been taken shortly after Hermione had finished her last year at Hogwarts. They hadn't known it was being taken, due to Molly's stealth with the camera, but it was Hermione's favorite picture of the two of them. They had been standing near the Burrow's garden one Sunday after a family brunch, simply smiling at each other and talking about the lives they were finally able to properly begin living. Hermione couldn't remember exactly what she had said, but Ron had leaned in to kiss her just as Molly had snapped the picture.

"We've got a nice one from Harry and Ginny's wedding," Hermione said, deciding that though it was her favorite, she didn't particularly want to share the mantle picture with every Weasley cousin on the guest list - it was _their_ memory, after all. "It doesn't matter that it's a wizarding photo, seeing as the only muggles we're inviting are my parents."

It was true; none of Hermione's small extended family had been put on the guest list. Though they hid behind the pretense that they wanted to be able to celebrate with magic without worrying about breaking the Secrecy Statute, the truth was that Ron was very uncomfortable around the majority of Hermione's relatives, and she couldn't blame him one bit. She cared about them as one is obliged to care about one's family, but it was certainly no loss to her to exclude them from the big day. She hadn't worked out a lie to tell if any of them should ask why they hadn't been invited, but she was willing to bet just about anything that they wouldn't bother asking.

"Okay. We can get those done at that place in Diagon Alley, right?" Ron asked, making a small note at the bottom of the guest list.

"Yes, but we'll have to address and mail them," Hermione replied.

"Alright," Ron agreed, clearly making a concentrated effort not to complain about such a mundane task. "I looked through your notes about the ceremony, too. So we're going to have to sign some form thingy for the muggles?"

"Yes, but I believe we can do that beforehand," Hermione said. "We need to be sure our marriage is recognized as legal in the muggle world, but the ceremony itself will be the traditional wizarding wedding, unless you've got something else in mind."

"No, that sounds good. But what's this about me wearing a muggle suit?"

The hours went by quickly and blissfully. Hermione found that planning their wedding was the perfect distraction. While she was perfectly aware that Ron would probably not take such an interest for such a prolonged period of time if he weren't trying to keep her mind on something positive, she appreciated his efforts nonetheless. They made quite a bit of progress, and had managed to do so with minimal bickering. The more they talked about it, the more excited Hermione could feel herself becoming; more than anything else, she couldn't wait to marry the man she'd once described in a letter to her mother as "that awfully rude boy with the dirt on his nose."

However, Hermione's high spirits were short-lived. Throughout the years, she had found that no matter how hard she tried to avoid unpleasant thoughts, they had a way of creeping into her brain right as she got set to go to sleep, and this night would be no exception. Nearly the second Hermione crawled under the covers, her brain began to race with thoughts of the day she'd had and the day she'd likely have tomorrow. The difference now, though, was that she shared a bed with her loving husband-to-be, who seemed to have made it his own personal mission to keep her smiling - and she certainly wouldn't fault him for that.

"I can't bloody wait to marry you," Ron said softly as he joined her in bed a moment after she'd crawled in. It was as though he'd sensed her shift in mood without even looking at her.

"Likewise," Hermione replied with a small smile, adjusting her position so that she was closer to him. He took advantage of the situation by sliding his hand underneath her jumper to rub the skin of her back.

"Hey," he said softly, using his other hand to tilt her chin up so that she met his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Hermione replied, seeing her emotions reflected back to her in his eyes - a sensation she'd never quite got used to. "Thank you."

Hermione barely had the chance to register the intense look that had returned to Ron's eyes before he kissed her deeply, the hand that lay on her back sliding upwards. It seemed that Ron had found a new way to keep Hermione's mind on the good things, and she certainly wasn't about to object. She craved this; the kind of intimacy she could only ever find with him, a way to express their feelings without having to deal with any messy words or misinterpretations. And of course, it always felt, in Ron's words, "fucking amazing." Afterward, they lay close together as they drifted off into sleep. Hermione's last conscious thought was that everything would work out, so long as she and Ron were together. It simply had to.

_One Week Later_

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger was lying on the sofa doing absolutely nothing, and she hated it. It had been a week since she'd been offered the ambassador position, and six days since she'd officially turned it down. Time seemed to inch by at a glacial pace now that she wasn't working. As per her mum's suggestion, she had not yet inquired into any other jobs.

"Give yourself a few days to relax," Mum had told her over the phone last weekend. "You ought to take some time to yourself, decompress a bit. I want to have a well-rested daughter next weekend for our big dress outing."

Hermione had been skeptical, but Ron had told her the same thing. "Honestly Hermione, you're being paid more in severance than you'd have made in two weeks anyway," he'd said on Monday morning as he got ready to leave for his shift. "Your mum's right, you could use a bit of a rest. I'll see you tonight." And with a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, he was gone, and Hermione was left to her own devices.

The first two days, Hermione had kept herself busy by cleaning every inch of the flat. Twice actually, much to Ron's amusement. When that had run its course, she threw herself headfirst into wedding planning, concentrating on every single detail of the preparation, ceremony, and reception. She even went so far as to make a list of songs she wanted for the dancing portion and in what order they should be played. However, there came a point when there was nothing more she could do for the time being, and then she was left to clean the flat again.

But by mid-morning on Thursday, she'd completely run out of things to occupy her time. So, she tried reading. However, after a third failed attempt at making it more than a page without getting distracted by her thoughts, she gave it up as a bad job and simply laid down on the sofa, finally allowing the feelings she'd been suppressing for the past few days to come to the surface.

When all was said and done, she knew that turning the job down had been the right decision. As much as she loved to travel, she had no desire to represent the Ministry abroad. Perhaps, if things had been different, she may have considered it, but she had different priorities now. It was funny, she thought - when she was younger, she never thought she'd put a relationship before her career. In fact, she'd been quite judgmental of women that did. Of course, that was before she'd fallen in love with one Ron Weasley and sorted out her priorities. Jobs were replaceable; her relationship with Ron was not, and she knew that if it came to it, he'd make the same decision for her.

However, she knew now that she should not have taken her mum's advice. She simply couldn't stand being idle. She needed to work, she needed to do something that truly mattered. Planning the wedding had been a nice distraction, but she couldn't do that indefinitely. She knew she could probably find a job fairly quickly if she looked; she'd had several offers from other departments when she'd left Hogwarts - but she didn't want to take just any job. She had loved her last position; she'd been given the opportunity to do something meaningful; there was no way she could settle into a trivial job now - but what if there was no other option? It was as though her biggest fear had been realized - being useless.

All her life, Hermione had worked hard to make something of herself. She would not be a meaningless existence, she'd begun to make sure of that from a very young age. She was going to make a difference in the world. She was going to be someone. That desire had stayed with her throughout the years in various forms; it was why she studied so much, it was part of the reason why she'd tried to take charge of helping Harry during the war, it was why she'd dedicated her career thus far to making life better for others. She was going to make an impact, that much she'd always been sure of.

But now what was she? She angrily wiped a few stray tears from her eyes as she burrowed herself further into the sofa. She knew she was just making it worse, lying there feeling sorry for herself, but she truly couldn't summon the energy to do anything about it right then. She didn't feel like doing anything at all, really, and that scared her more than anything.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been brooding, and was fairly certain she must have fallen asleep at least once or twice, but eventually, she heard familiar footsteps outside the door. She wondered briefly how she could recognize Ron simply by the sound of his walk, but was thankful she could. It gave her a small moment to sit up and compose herself. As supportive as he'd been for the past week, she didn't want to trouble him any more than she already had.

"Her-my-oh-nee!" came an uncharacteristically singsong-y voice as the door opened a minute later.

She frowned a little as she turned to look at him; he had a ridiculous smile on his face. "Have you been to the pub?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nope," he said gleefully, throwing his Auror's cloak and bag haphazardly across the room as he made his way toward her. Without so much as a word, he lifted her up over his shoulder and spun her around effortlessly.

"Ron!" she scolded, though she was giggling. "What's got into you? Put me down!"

"Oh, nothing," he said nonchalantly, carrying her over to the kitchen and patting her bum a couple times before setting her right. "Let's go out for dinner tonight, shall we? I don't much feel like cooking."

"We ought to be watching our money a bit," Hermione fretted, though she had to admit a night out sounded lovely.

"Nah, we'll be fine," Ron said, reaching into his work bag and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. He handed it to her with an exaggerated wink. "Back in a mo'," he said before turning and making his way toward the bedroom.

She stared after him dumbly for a moment before coming to her senses and unfolding the parchment. Her eyes widened as she scanned the words on the page not once, but twice, unwilling to believe what it said. Surely she'd gone delirious from her lack of activity? It was simply too good to be true; there must be some sort of catch. Things couldn't get better that quickly, could they?

She only looked up when she heard Ron's footsteps returning to the kitchen. He was now clad in a dress shirt and nice trousers, looking quite ready for a night out. Her mouth was still gaping open when she looked up to meet his wide grin. "Perfect, eh?" he said.

"What did - how did you - ?"

"I didn't do anything," Ron replied, placing his hands on her shoulders gently as she continued to look at him in awe. "Got it handed to me right before I left; they were gonna just owl it off, but figured it'd just be faster to give it to me, since everyone in the bloody Ministry knows about our personal business. I don't mind, though, people knowing I get to come home to _you_ every day. Brilliant, isn't it?"

"But why-"

"Well, it's technically the same department as me and Harry, isn't it?" Ron continued excitedly. "So they heard about you being available and figured they'd get the set!"

"How-"

"Oh, don't get touchy, I was kidding." Before Hermione could say that she wasn't even remotely upset, he barreled on: "Anyway, I know it's technically just an interview, but there's no way you won't get it. They sought you out, for starters, and more importantly, you're bloody fantastic. You'll be able to help so many people this way, too. Even better, we'll be on the same floor now! Easier to see each other during lunch, and there's a couple of supply closets down the corridor that'd do quite nicely if, y'know, you ever miss me during the day-"

This was enough to make Hermione smack him gently on the arm, though she didn't quite have the heart for a full reprimand. "I can't believe it," she said softly.

"Believe it, love. Now go get dressed, will you? I want to take my fiancée out for a romantic evening to celebrate," Ron said, his eyes sparkling happily.

"Thank you," Hermione said, resting her hands lightly on his arms.

"I didn't do anything," Ron replied, but Hermione quickly silenced him by pressing her lips to his.

"You did, though," she insisted quietly, then leaned in to kiss him again, this time far more thoroughly.

When they finally broke apart, Ron's smile looked as though it was likely to split his face in two. Hermione had no doubt her expression matched his. "Well, I'm not one to argue," Ron quipped. "Now go on. You should wear that nice blue dress you like."

"Why's that?" Hermione asked cheekily.

"Because I like it too," he said, feigning a great sigh of defeat. "Would you get dressed already, woman?"

"Gladly," Hermione said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek before walking past him toward the bedroom to get ready, the job offer from the legal office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement still clutched tightly in her hand.

* * *

A/N: Hurray! Everything will be alright! :) That was sort of a fun one - a bit of a mix of angst and drama and fluff and stuff. Hopefully it all worked together okay. Anyway...it's very bittersweet to post this because I now realize that after this chapter, there's just one more and then the epilogue. AAHHH!

If you'd like to let me know what you thought (or read either of the new one-shots : shameless self-plug because I'm sort of proud of them), please be my guest. You're all wonderful people for reading this craziness. I love you almost as much as Ron and Hermione love each other. :)


	19. Granger

A/N: Thank you all so much for everything. This is the last proper chapter (although to be honest, the epilogue may be just as long as this chapter), and I am sort of very emotional. It's crazy how writing a silly little fanfiction about two of your favorite characters can escalate to this. There will be far more of this heartfelt shit next time when it officially wraps up, but for now, just thank you.

Also, I posted a Narcissa/Lucius one-shot called "The Arrangement" a couple weeks ago for Ollivander's Challenge. It's not romantic or fluffy, but here's the obligatory self-promotion because I'm selfish.

Warning: This chapter (and the epilogue, for that matter) has little to no plot. It is literally shameless fluff - probably worse than cotton candy. Be prepared to brush your teeth vigorously after reading.

Disclaimer: I can't even afford a smart phone, okay? I am broke. BROKE! So basically, not J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"Her Last Night as a Granger"

20 June 2003

As the clock struck eight o'clock, Ron and Hermione had just begun their habitual Friday evening post-dinner sofa cuddle. Usually, this was a relaxing way to unwind after the work week. However, tonight wasn't just any Friday night.

"You're sure your mum's got everything under control at the Burrow?" Hermione asked, for what must have been the tenth time in under an hour.

"Even if she didn't, you know she wouldn't let you do anything more," Ron replied patiently, rubbing her arm as a means of comfort. "Just think - it'll all be done with in twenty-four hours."

"Done with?" Hermione asked skeptically, turning to face him and scrunching up her nose in disapproval.

"You know what I mean," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "The frivolities and all that. Then we get to the good stuff, yeah?"

"We do, don't we? The rest of our lives are nearly here," Hermione said with a smile.

"Oh," Ron said slowly. "I was just talking about the two weeks in Italy, but I suppose-"

Hermione cut him off with a playful smack on the arm. "Ouch," he said, feigning injury. "Why am I marrying you again?"

"Mostly for the sex, I expect," Hermione teased, burrowing further into his side.

"Yes, that's right," Ron replied matter-of-factly. "And for the tea. Great tea and great tits."

Rather than scold him as she normally might have, Hermione collapsed into a fit of giggles. Even Ron's ridiculous teasing seemed wonderful tonight - the night before their wedding. Ron joined in her laughter, digging his fingers into her sides and tickling madly.

"Ron!" Hermione shrieked, batting her hands about until she was able to get a firm grip on his shoulders. Then, using every ounce of her strength, she pushed him back so that he was lying flat on the sofa. There was no doubt in her mind that he went a bit easy on her during their play fights, but she still felt a sense of triumph as she straddled his stomach and began poking him incessantly. He did not relinquish in his tickling of her sides, even as she pinched and twisted his nipples.

After a few moments of intense concentration broken only by the occasional breathless giggle, Ron shifted a bit too far to his left, and Hermione overcorrected. The next second, they came toppling down to the floor, Ron half on top of Hermione, laughing maniacally and still grabbing at each other.

"I've got you now," Ron growled playfully, dragging her hands away from his stomach, which they'd been punching lightly, and pinning them above her head. Hermione bit her lip in concentration as she attempted to fight back; eventually, she managed to bring one of her legs around his waist and, quite literally, kicked his arse as hard as she could.

"Oi! Are we seven years old again?" Ron teased, loosening his grip on her hands. She wriggled them free from his grasp and brought to his hair, tugging his face closer so that she could bring his lips to hers. He obliged happily and deepened the kiss.

"Ugh, really? Can this not wait til tomorrow?

Hermione and Ron reluctantly broke apart and sat up to face Ginny, who was standing in the kitchen tapping her foot, accompanied by a sheepish-looking Harry entering the doorway behind her.

"Hello, prats!" Ron said cheerily as he stood up and offered a hand to help Hermione to her feet. "Come to collect me, have you?"

"Unfortunately," Harry replied with a bit of a grimace. "Do you need a moment?"

"We're just fine," Hermione said primly. "Would the two of you like something to drink?"

"Got any rum?" Ginny asked, flopping down into the nearest chair at the table.

"Tea it is," Hermione said, scowling at Ron as he sniggered.

"Mum wants you at the Burrow at ten tomorrow," Ginny told Hermione as she began to fix the tea. "She wants plenty of time to doll you up."

"I don't understand how it's going to take four hours," Ron remarked as he sat between Harry and Ginny at the table.

"That's because all we've got to do is make sure you've showered," Harry said knowingly. "They've got this whole ritual thing they've got to do."

"It'd be nice if you added cologne to your list," Ginny said, leaning away from Ron and contorting her face dramatically.

"I do wear cologne! Just because I don't bathe in it doesn't mean I don't," Ron replied, a bit defensively. "And I smell very nice, don't I, love?" he called to Hermione.

Hermione smiled to herself, privately reflecting that she far preferred his natural scent to his cologne anyway. "Of course you do, darling," she replied, turning around to face her friends. "I do request that you comb your hair for the ceremony, though, as adorable as you are with bed-head."

Ginny snorted, and Harry looked torn between laughing and choking on his own vomit at this remark. Ron, as usual, looked positively affronted at being called adorable. Hermione appeased him by crossing the room to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"You'd think I was some sort of teddy bear, the way you go on about me," Ron grumbled after she pulled away.

"Of course not, my big, strong Auror man," Hermione replied with a wink. Ron pulled a face at her, and she responded by planting a smacking kiss on his mouth before returning to the counter to pour the tea into four cups.

"You two are mental," Harry remarked affectionately, though he was resting his head in his hands as though he had some sort of headache. Hermione rolled her eyes at him pointedly, but he predictably ignored her.

"And to think, this time tomorrow they'll be mental _and_ married," Ginny added, smiling at Hermione as she distributed the cups of tea.

"Well, it's about time," Harry continued. "They've been acting married for the last decade."

"Save it for your toast, will you?" Ron grumbled good-naturedly.

"Oh, I've got plenty ready for my toast," Harry laughed. "There's nice anecdote about the fate of a certain Viktor Krum figurine, for instance-"

Hermione burst into laughter. "Oh, Ron, you didn't-"

"Shut up, Harry," Ron said, his cheeks rapidly turning red. "I was fourteen!"

"Well, if that's no good, there's a few other instances I could use," Harry said fairly. "Not all of them would be appropriate given the company, mind you."

"I'll have you remember that I gave you a lovely, heartwarming toast when you decided you just _had_ to marry my sister," Ron told Harry sternly.

"_Had_ to?" Ginny cried indignantly, reaching over to bop Ron on the head.

"Well, you decided you _had_ to marry Hermione," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, you won't embarrass him _too _badly, will you?" Hermione said reasonably.

"Yeah, you just don't want me mentioning the canaries," Harry told her dismissively.

"Canaries?" Ginny said interestedly.

"It's nothing," Hermione replied hurriedly, though both she and Ginny knew by the look on Harry's face that he fully intended to tell her later.

"Nothing my arse," Ron scoffed. "I've still got scars from that," he added, further piquing Ginny's interest.

Hermione reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze in apology; he squeezed right back, because it had all been forgiven ages ago.

"Anyway," Ginny said after a moment, "everything's just about set at the Burrow. Mum's been running us all around like mad as usual, though she's taken pity on Fleur and Audrey for the time being, what with their little ones and all. Not to mention Fleur's not exactly mobile at the moment, being so far along with the next one. Anyway, we haven't left much for tomorrow, so everything should run smoothly."

"_Should_ being the key word in that sentence," Hermione remarked.

"It will," Ron said confidently. "If anyone tries to ruin our wedding, one of us will hex them to oblivion anyway," he told Hermione with a grin.

"That we will," Hermione agreed.

"But remember," Ron said seriously. "If everything goes to shit, we can always elope."

"Sure, but Mum would kill you," Ginny pointed out.

"So we'd go into hiding until we had a kid to distract her with," Ron continued sincerely. "No matter how angry Mum gets, she wouldn't leave one of her grandkids an orphan."

"Does it ever scare you how thoroughly he's thought this through?" Harry asked Hermione through his guffaws.

"I'd expect nothing less," Hermione said with a smile. "Ever the strategist, isn't he?"

The group's collective laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Oh, that'll be my mum. Will you get it, Ron?" Hermione asked as she began to clear the teacups from the table. Her mum had wanted to spend some time together before the wedding, and Hermione had agreed immediately - she didn't particularly fancy being alone for the night, and it seemed like the perfect time for a visit with her mum.

Ron followed her directions without argument. "Hello, Mrs. Granger!" he greeted cheerily as he opened the door.

"Ah, you're still here, dear?" Mum asked distractedly, giving him an affectionate pat on the cheek as she moved past him, dragging an inordinate amount of luggage behind her.

"We've just come to bring him to the Burrow, Mrs. Granger," Ginny said sweetly.

"Oh, good, good," Mum continued, dropping her bags by the sofa and crossing the room to kiss Hermione on the forehead. "Hello, dear, I'm sorry I'm late. Your father was intent on keeping me with questions about tomorrow; you know how he hates to be unprepared."

"That's quite alright, Mum," Hermione said. "We're just finishing up."

"Good, good," Mum repeated, taking the empty seat at the table and letting out a deep breath.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Granger?" Ron asked concernedly.

"Oh, yes," she said with a gracious smile. "But you know, lots of excitement. Big day tomorrow and all that. Have you any tea left, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and poured what was left of the tea into a new cup for her mum, who downed most of it in one sip.

"So we ought to get you back then, Ron," Harry said, breaking the momentary silence. "Your mum'll be here soon otherwise."

"Right. Just let me get my bag," Ron said, standing and retreating toward the bedroom.

"Does Molly need anything done?" Mum asked Harry and Ginny.

"No, we're ready," Ginny replied kindly. "And to be honest, I don't think she'd dream of asking you to do anything."

"Oh, that's ridiculous," Mum scoffed.

"That's Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Sorry, love," he added to Ginny as an afterthought.

"It's not as though you're wrong," Ginny told him with a laugh. "There's a reason Weasleys have a reputation for being ridiculously stubborn, you know."

"It's a good job Hermione's joining your family, then," Mum said, her eyes twinkling - she seemed to have relaxed some since she'd arrived, much to Hermione's relief.

"Oh, she'll fit right in," Ginny replied with a laugh.

"Lovely," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.

"What's lovely?" Ron asked as he reentered the room, setting his bag on the floor as he moved to stand next to Hermione.

"Your fiancée's stubborn streak," Harry said.

Ron let out a bark of laughter. "Lovely, indeed. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have one of my own."

"At least you admit it now," Hermione said with a smile.

"Only because you made me," Ron teased, tapping Hermione on the nose with his pointer finger. She wrinkled it in response and gave his hip bone a jab.

"Alright, enough," Ginny cut in. "Let's get going. We don't need Mum getting cross with the groom, do we?"

"Alright, alright," Ron said. "I don't know why we've got to follow this stupid tradition anyhow."

"Oh, but I'd have kicked you out either way," Mrs. Granger told him apologetically. "I'm afraid I'm in need of some girl time tonight."

"You'll have plenty of time to be disgusting tomorrow, anyway," Ginny added, rolling her eyes. "We'll see you at ten then, Hermione?"

"We'll be there," Hermione affirmed, turning to kiss Ron lightly on the mouth. "And I'll see _you_ at the end of the aisle."

Ron grinned widely and pulled her into a full embrace. "I love you," he murmured into her ear.

"I love you, too," Hermione replied softly. He pulled back a moment later, and she smiled against his lips as he leaned in to press one more lingering kiss to her mouth.

With a last wave, Ron was ushered out of the flat by Harry and Ginny, having opted to apparate around the corner rather than floo in Mum's presence. Hermione set about doing the dishes the non-magical way, a small smile plastered to her face.

"Do you think the two of you will be able to keep your hands off each other long enough to actually perform the ceremony?" Mum asked casually.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We aren't _that_ bad, Mum."

"Well, yes you are, but you're getting married tomorrow. It's only to be expected," Mum said reasonably. "Just do those the magical way, will you? I don't mind. I've got some things I want to show you."

Hermione turned to eye her warily, but Mum only smiled sweetly and stood up to make her way to the sofa, retrieving a small bag from her luggage on the way. Hermione followed after setting the dishes to clean themselves with a flick of her wand.

"I thought it might be fun to go through my wedding album," Mum continued, pulling a thick book out of her bag. "And I've brought your baby book as a backup, as well."

"Sounds lovely, Mum," Hermione laughed, settling in next to her on the sofa. "Where shall we begin?"

Mum opened the wedding book to the first pages and laughed immediately at the sight that greeted her. "Oh, here we've got me getting ready for the ceremony. You can see Nana in this one, fussing over my hair."

"I suppose that's what I've got to look forward to tomorrow morning," Hermione sighed.

"Yes, but you'll have two mums fussing," Mum pointed out. "And several sisters-in-law, I daresay. I adore the Weasley family, you know, but they certainly do like to be _involved_, don't they?"

Hermione laughed. "That's a nice way to put it."

"You'll be glad for it though, I imagine," Mum remarked. "You won't have to lift a finger tomorrow, until Ron puts that ring on."

"I really wouldn't mind either way," Hermione said, reaching over to turn the page of the album. "Oh, your dress was so lovely, Mum!"

"Thank you," Mum replied. "It's a bit more conservative than yours, I suppose, but long sleeves were in style back then."

"It's a similar cut to mine, though," Hermione pointed out.

"I don't think I'll ever forget the day we picked yours out," Mum remarked with a smile. "It was like you grew up right before my eyes, dear. Granted, you've been grown up since you were about ten years old, but nevertheless."

Hermione chuckled. "I think I know what you mean. It's a whole different feeling, knowing you're getting married versus standing there in the gown."

"And just you wait til tomorrow," Mum said knowingly, turning a page of the album. "You can see here how very nervous I was."

"I'm not nervous yet," Hermione said thoughtfully. It was true - she was very excited, of course, but she hadn't really had the time between all the preparations to be properly anxious about the thing.

"I wasn't until about an hour before the ceremony," Mum said. "Though to be honest, I was mostly just afraid I'd trip on the train of my gown!"

Hermione giggled. "I got one with a short train specifically for that reason."

"Always thinking ahead, of course," Mum smiled affectionately. "It's more of an excited nervous that you'll feel, anyway, if you're marrying the right man."

"Which I definitely am," Hermione said as her thoughts turned to Ron - the way he'd smile at her whenever she'd mess with his hair, the bleary way his eyes would flutter open first thing in the morning, the look he'd given her after the first time they'd...

"You really are, dear," Mum remarked, drawing Hermione out of her reverie. "Oh, here we go, some pictures of the actual ceremony!"

"Oh, look at Dad!" Hermione pointed. "It's hard to imagine him actually having that much hair!"

Mum laughed jovially. "Yes, I get a kick out of that now. I think this one is my favorite, though," she said, turning the page. "This one was taken as I was walking down the aisle."

Hermione studied the positively gleeful expression on her father's face with a smile. "That's really quite adorable, isn't it?" Mum remarked softly.

"It's so lovely, isn't it? How happy he looks," Hermione replied, tracing the edge of the photo lightly with her fingertips.

"Yes, and it helped my nerves to see him looking at _me_ like that," Mum said, a far-away look in her eyes. "Of course, you'll know just what I mean tomorrow."

Hermione smiled and turned another page in the album. "Is that from the vows, then?" she asked, pointing to a shot of her parents facing each other with intent, sincere expressions.

"Yes, we wrote our own," Mum remarked. "That was fairly nerve-wracking itself, of course. But you and Ron are following some sort of script, aren't you?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Though actually...we did write our own. We just didn't share them with anyone."

"Oh?"

Hermione blushed. She hadn't told anyone about their plan for fear of being teased, but she knew her mum would understand. "We read them out to each other last night, and we'd written them down so we can have them, you know, long beyond tomorrow."

"Well, that's a lovely idea," Mum said emphatically. "You've always been a rather private couple."

Hermione snorted. "Hardly. We didn't learn how to keep to ourselves til we were eighteen."

"That's right, you had your first kiss in front of Harry, didn't you?" Mum commented.

"And the second in front of Ron's whole family," Hermione said, blushing at the memory. "And we used to row quite publicly, as well. Harry saw them all, at the very least, and we regularly had a sizeable audience."

"But you don't row so much anymore, do you?" Mum asked.

"Not really," Hermione said thoughtfully. "We bicker, you know that, but it's harder to get properly angry with each other now. Most of our rows were the result of unresolved sexual tension, you see."

"Which is something you can resolve now, of course," Mum remarked with a smirk. "I don't know that I'll ever forget the first time I realized Ron was a regular overnight guest here, either."

"Mum!" Hermione groaned. "That was more than three years ago!"

"Well, it's not often I'm greeted in the morning by a handsome young man in his pants," Mum said in a falsely innocent tone.

"That's your son-in-law, you know!" Hermione scolded, rubbing her face with her hands exasperatedly.

"Of course it is," Mum placated."Aren't I allowed to be happy for you, dear?"

"I'd prefer you'd keep all references to Ron's underwear out of this conversation," Hermione grumbled, hastily turning the next page in the album so as to change the subject. "Have we moved on to the reception, then?"

"It appears that way," Mum said. "Oh, here's our first dance."

Hermione chuckled. "You look quite uncomfortable, don't you?"

"Don't tease; you will, too," Mum insisted. "It's not a lot of fun, trying to dance when everyone's watching. Have the two of you chosen a song to dance to?"

"Yes, it's an instrumental piece composed by a German wizard," Hermione answered. "I suggested it, but Ron agreed. Neither of us particularly wanted anything too sappy, but the piece we chose sounds beautiful on the piano without any ridiculous words to go along."

"That sounds lovely," Mum said. "It suits you."

"Yes, and I couldn't have Ron giggling during the thing," Hermione said. "Wizarding love ballads tend to be a bit...over the top, to say the least."

"Well, they are in our world too," Mum said fairly. "Ah, and here's the cake we had! Purely decadent, let me tell you; I've been dreaming about this cake for the past twenty-five years!"

The two women passed the next hour or so looking through the albums Mum had brought, laughing and chatting amicably. Hermione particularly enjoyed the stories from the early years of her parents' courtship and marriage, and Mum delighted in recounting Hermione's childhood in detail. Eventually, they realized it was nearly eleven, and they must try to get some sleep before the big day. Hermione transfigured the sofa into a small bed, much to Mum's amusement, and began to tidy the flat and set everything out for the morning to avoid any unnecessary hold-ups.

"When do you suppose you'll move out of this place?" Mum asked as Hermione bustled about in her small kitchen.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione said distractedly as she placed the now-clean dishes in the cupboard. "Not until we're ready to have kids, I suppose. The rent here isn't too expensive, so we'll be able to save up once the wedding's done with."

"How long do you suppose you'll wait to have children?" Mum asked casually, though Hermione saw right through her.

"A couple of years," Hermione replied vaguely. "Not too long, but not right away."

"Well, I'm ready to be a Nana anytime, dear," Mum said with a smile. "You know, your dad and I are going to start cutting back our hours at the practice over the next few years. We aren't quite ready to retire yet; we're still a bit young, but ever since Australia, we've been thinking how lovely it would be to have more time to travel and all that. So I suppose we ought to thank you for that - and we could, you know, since we'd be available to babysit."

"Let's focus on the wedding first, Mum," Hermione said firmly. "Speaking of which, I think we're all set for morning."

"Do you have everything ready to go? Your gown?" Mum asked.

"Ginny's got it at the Burrow," Hermione replied. "You can keep all your luggage in her room until after the ceremony as well, by the way."

"Yes, it certainly wouldn't do to leave it here, would it?" Mum said with a smirk. "Wouldn't want to interrupt your wedding night, dear."

"I haven't decided yet, you know," Hermione remarked conversationally.

"What's that, dear?"

"Whether you or Ron's brother George is worse," Hermione said. "Honestly."

"Oh, I'm allowed to tease," Mum said dismissively. "Now, get your sleep, dear. We need to be ready to make you a Weasley tomorrow."

"I suppose we do," Hermione said with a smile as she crossed the room to embrace her mother. "Good night, Mum."

"Good night, love," Mum responded with a kiss on the cheek. "Alarm set for seven-thirty tomorrow, yes?"

"Yes," Hermione affirmed, double-checking the lock on the door as was her custom before making her way to the bedroom. "Good night!"

Hermione got herself ready for bed quietly, following her routine as she always did. First, she attempted to brush through her hair so that washing it in the morning wouldn't be hopeless. Then, she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Finally, she stripped off her clothes and chose her favorite nightgown to sleep in. Tonight, however, she performed her routine more slowly than usual - though she wasn't entirely sure why until she finally settled into bed and remembered just how much she hated sleeping alone. She'd grown accustomed to falling asleep with Ron's arm draped across her stomach. At first, adjusting to sleeping in the same bed had been a bit of a challenge, but they'd long since been used to it. Now, it felt wrong for either of them to sleep without the other one.

After tossing and turning for what must have been a quarter of an hour, Hermione gave it up for a bad job and began to rummage on her bedside table. When at last she found the piece of parchment she'd been looking for, she flicked the lamp on and settled into a seated position to read it - Ron's vows to her.

It was written in his familiar script - sloppy and loopy, though this time he'd made a bit of an effort as far as legibility went, perhaps due to the nature of the words themselves. There was an imprint about halfway down the page that was no doubt left by a teacup, and Hermione traced it fondly. It was so very Ron, which only endeared it to her more. With a happy sigh, she let herself read the words on the page, replaying them in her head as they'd sounded coming out of his mouth the night before:

_Hermione: It's hard to figure out anything to say that you wouldn't already know. You know that I love you, and you know that I can't wait to marry you. It's a good thing we aren't doing this in public, isn't it? So anyway, where to start...well, we both know I didn't like you right away, which is fine since you didn't like me either. But saving you from that stupid troll was the best thing I've ever done - never mind that it was sort of my fault in the first place. Anyway, I just don't know how Harry and I could have got through life without you. We'd have been dead a thousand times over without you there to save our sorry arses. But see, you know all that too. And you also know how bloody stupid I was when I started to like you as more than a friend, and how happy we both were when we finally got our heads on straight - in the middle of a fucking war, no less, but we did it and now we're here and we're getting married. Anyway, I thought it'd be nice if I told you some stuff that I don't think I have before, since you know all the basic "I will love you til the end of time" shite without me trying to put it poetically._

_Okay, so first I want to tell you about the first time I wanted to kiss you. We were fifteen, that summer at Grimmauld Place before Harry got there. You'd just arrived a couple days previously, and we'd spent the whole time talking about everything that was happening and how worried we were and all that. Eventually we were talking in circles, so we decided to play chess to take our minds off it. I dunno what was different about that game versus any other, but I almost lost. You looked so ridiculously pretty sitting across from me with your concentration face on, fifteen-year-old me could hardly handle it. That was the first time I actually realized that I wanted you to be more than just my best friend that's a girl, and it scared me shitless. I'm not gonna lie, I'd definitely had a couple of wet dreams about you before then, but I figured that was just because you were a girl with actual boobs and at that point that's all that mattered, you know? I've never been happier to be wrong. Anyway, I thought for sure you'd hex me if I tried anything, but now I'm just sorry it took us another three years. Seriously, Hermione, the number of times I wanted to kiss you between that time at Grimmauld Place and when we actually did in the Room of Requirement is insane. When you told me that you'd liked me since our fourth year, I could have kicked myself, because I could have kissed you that first time and you would've let me. It doesn't matter anymore, since I get to kiss you for the rest of our lives now, but back then...practically apocalyptic, let me tell you._

_I also want to tell you about the first time I realized I wanted to marry you. Well, you were there, I guess - I told you right away, after you'd been there for me after a tough raid. Remember that? That was the first time I told you, anyway, or maybe the first time I let myself use the word marry. I knew you were it for me before then, though. I don't really know when I figured it out. It's sort of always been that way, you know? Even when we were in school and being stupid, I knew I wasn't gonna be happy with someone who wasn't you. I definitely knew by the year on the run, even if I was an idiot for most of that. But we've talked about all that, too. We talk about everything now, don't we? Anyway, by the time we actually got together I knew it was gonna be for good. We could've got married the day after the war, as far as I'm concerned, but I'm sort of glad we waited. We've got real lives now, and we can start a family soon. I can't wait for us to be a proper family._

_This is probably the most I've ever written, isn't it?(I blame you for telling me yours took up nearly a foot of parchment.) And I have yet to actually vow anything, haven't I? I guess what I've been trying to say with all of this is that you really are everything to me. I think I may have told you when I proposed (I'm not sure though, the whole thing was pretty much word vomit in my memory), that you make everything in my life better, and I think you make me a better person too. I don't think I'd be the same me if you weren't here. This sounds so sappy when I write it, doesn't it? Again, it's a good job we aren't actually writing our own vows for the wedding because George would be taking the mickey out of me something fierce about now. I'm sort of worried I'll fuck it up, even with a script, so I'm just going to remind you now that I love you more than anything and that I promise I'll never stop, even when we're eighty years old and you're nagging me to clean my fake teeth. How's that for a romantic image? Anyway, I can't wait til we're married, and I really can't wait until our wedding night...I'm going to shag your brains out, just so you know. Definitely can't say that in the actual vows!_

_So lastly, I guess I want to say that words are probably never going to be enough to tell you how I really feel, but I like to think that you know anyway because you feel it too. I think that we both feel it whenever we're together. I sort of wish there was a spell I could do to make you see exactly how I feel, because I don't think I'll ever be able to describe it to you and then we could really be sure that we're feeling the same thing. But also, I don't think we need that, because you're good with words and everything you've said to me over the last few years really makes me believe that you love me just as much, and that's really the most incredible feeling._

_You're the most beautiful, amazing, clever, determined, brave, and kind person in the entire world, Hermione Jean Granger. Let's work on changing that last name now, yeah?_

_I love you,_

_Ron_

Hermione wasn't surprised that she was nearly in tears by the end of her reread. She'd been a blubbering mess the first time Ron had read it to her, because it was just so very him, and she absolutely loved him for it. He really could be sweet when he wanted to be, however much he hated the word "adorable."

She brought the piece of paper to her lips and kissed it, feeling only mildly ridiculous at the action, then laid it carefully back in its place on her bedside table. Out of curiosity, she glanced over at the table on Ron's side of the bed, and noticed the copy of her vows wasn't there - he must have taken it with him tonight. That thought made her smile widely, and at last she felt ready to go to sleep, if for no other reason but to make the time fly faster until she could see Ron again - because the next time she saw Ron, he would be waiting at the end of an aisle to become her husband. The next time she saw Ron, she would become Hermione Weasley, and she could think of no better thing in the world.

* * *

A/N: Ready to throw up from the amount of fluff yet? Fair warning - it only gets sappier in the epilogue. Be prepared.

Thank you all again. I may be posting some behind the scenes stuff this week on my tumblr, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested. I love talking to all of you, so please feel free. See you all next time:)


	20. Epilogue

A/N: Hello, old friend, and here we are. You and me, on the last page. Also, I open at the close, because this chapter begins a couple of hours after the prologue. Okay, I'm done throwing fandom references at you. Thank you all for everything. I can hardly believe how many people have read this story since I started posting it six months ago, and I'm sort of blown away by it. Here it goes - the pinnacle of fluff mountain. It has been reached.

(By the way - I posted Hermione's vows to Ron in a one-shot called "Let Me Count the Ways," if you're interested.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Ron Weasley. I do not own Hermione Weasley.

* * *

21 June 2003

"Bloody fucking hell!" Ron panted as he rolled off his wife (_wife - _she was his wife!), sprawling across their bed on his back and pulling her into his side. She ended up half on top of him on her stomach, but he didn't mind - the light weight of her naked body covering his was comforting.

"Romantic as ever," she quipped, bringing a hand up to trace the contours of his chest.

"_That_ was not romantic," Ron said incredulously. "That was...whoa, that was something."

Hermione laughed breathlessly. "I thought it was a bit romantic. Just not in the traditional sense," she added in response to Ron's raised eyebrow.

"Well, okay," Ron allowed. "It was brilliant, anyhow."

"Yes, brilliant," Hermione agreed, reaching up to push his sweaty hair out of his eyes with her left hand. Ron smiled as he felt her wedding band brush across his face. He glanced down toward the matching ring on his own left hand and sighed contentedly - something he must have done a few dozen times in the nine hours or so since he and Hermione had been married. Married, married, married. Finally.

"Do you think married shags will always be this good?" he asked absentmindedly, shifting a little so that her breasts were firmly pressed to his chest.

"Probably not," Hermione reasoned. "We can try, though."

"Perfect," Ron replied, bringing his hand up to tangle in her hair. She'd wrestled it into soft curls for the ceremony, but that had changed almost immediately after they'd returned to their flat. Ron didn't mind in the least - he loved her wild hair just as much.

"Mhm," Hermione hummed happily. "Today was perfect, wasn't it?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow. "Except for all the people, I guess so."

Hermione laughed softly. "That's the whole point of not eloping though, isn't it?"

"S'pose," Ron said. "It doesn't matter though, still a great day. Best of my life, I reckon."

"Me too," Hermione agreed softly.

She laid her head sideways on Ron's chest, and they settled into a comfortable silence. Having finally cooled down from their earlier activities, Ron pulled the covers up around them. An easy smile spread across his face; this was his favorite part of the day, really - quietly unwinding with Hermione, _especially_ post-shag. It was fitting, really, how much they'd fought when they were younger to get to this quiet place - in more ways than one.

"George and Angelina are getting married, too," Hermione mentioned off-handedly, interrupting Ron's thoughts. "Sometime in the autumn, she said."

Ron blinked slowly and shifted his gaze toward hers. "How do you know?"

"I was chatting with her earlier," Hermione replied. "They aren't really making an official announcement, you know, just sort of telling people when it comes up in conversation."

Ron snorted. "Doesn't surprise me. I may have to hit George for not mentioning it to me, though."

"Oh, don't," Hermione scolded. "I only got it out of Ange because I could tell something was going on. They probably just didn't want to say anything to us on our day."

"How long have they been engaged, though?" Ron asked.

"A few weeks, I think," Hermione said. "They're quite low-key, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Ron acknowledged. "Good on them, though; that's probably the best way to do it. They are what they are, and that's that."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "But knowing George, there'll still be fireworks at the ceremony."

Ron laughed and drew her even closer. "Probably. He's mental."

"But it's nice to see him so happy," Hermione said.

"Yeah. Nice to see everybody happy, really," Ron replied.

"It's strange, isn't it?" Hermione contemplated. "Five years ago, the war was barely over and we were in Australia with my parents. Now look at us all."

Ron chuckled. "I'll never forget the look on your dad's face when you said I was your boyfriend."

"He was a bit shocked about everything, that's all," Hermione defended weakly, but soon she laughed as well.

"That trip was the first time I told you I love you," Ron continued, the smile that had been plastered on his face for the past ten hours growing as he reminisced.

"No, it wasn't," Hermione corrected kindly. "You'd said it twice before."

Ron furrowed his brow. "No I didn't. I definitely would've known if I had."

"Well, the first time you were just happy I'd offered to fix your homework for you," Hermione recalled, "so I suppose that doesn't count the same way. We were together the second time, though, it's just that you were a bit drunk."

"Really?" Ron cringed. "I honestly don't remember."

"It was after Fred's service," Hermione continued. "You and George had gone outside, and when you came back, you kissed me, told me you loved me, and went to bed."

"Oh yeah, I remember kissing you," Ron said, smiling fondly at the memory. "That was George's fault, though."

"His _fault_?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, don't start," Ron dismissed. "He gave me a push in the right direction. Did I really tell you then?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "I didn't think you'd remember, though. I'm a bit surprised you remember the kiss, to be honest. You had quite a bit to drink that night."

"Well, I meant it, anyway," Ron said, rubbing her side tenderly. "I always mean it."

"I know," Hermione murmured, leaning upward to press a kiss to his jaw. "So do I."

When she made to pull back, Ron stilled her by bringing his hand up to cup her cheek and kissing her softly on the mouth. "Good night, Hermione Weasley."

She responded with a smile that he was certain would be engraved in his memories forever as she whispered, "Good night, Ron Weasley."

Within minutes, they'd settled back into a comfortable position, and their breathing had begun to slow as they were hit by an overdue wave of exhaustion and drowsiness. And as Ron drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thought was of just how fucking lucky he was - and just how blessed _they_ were.

_Twelve Hours Later_

"Ron!" he could hear Hermione call shrilly from the kitchen. "Ron, we're going to be late!"

"Yeah, just give me a moment!" he called back, throwing the last of his trousers into the suitcase, which Hermione had enlarged with an Undetectable Extension Charm.

They were planning to leave for the airport straight away after stopping for a spot of brunch at the Burrow, but in the excitement leading up to the wedding, Ron had neglected to start packing. Hermione, of course, had been packed for over a week, so she had spent the morning relaxing on the sofa and looking through their wedding gifts while Ron had bustled about trying to prepare for two weeks in Italy. Of course, he didn't really know what he would need for the trip, and he didn't particularly want to make Hermione cross with him on the first full day of their marriage, so he'd resorted to packing about half of his belongings into the suitcase just in case.

"Ron, really," Hermione called again, the sound of her footsteps coming closer as she spoke. "We won't be able to stay long as it is; we can't make them wait for us."

"Hermione," Ron whined, "we're newlyweds! They're probably just going to think we're shagging anyway!"

A second later, he was hit quite hard in the back of the head with a rolled up pair of socks. Ron whipped around and glared at the petite brunette standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips; she responded by raising an eyebrow menacingly, her expression stony. Ron, for his part, managed to keep a straight face for all of five seconds before breaking down into peals of laughter.

"I'm not sure how this is funny-" Hermione began, but Ron was quick to interrupt her by crossing the room and enveloping her in his arms.

"I am _so_ in love with you," he managed to choke out through his mirth, and he felt her relax in his embrace.

"And I with you, but I still don't know how it's funny," she muttered half-heartedly.

"You're funny," Ron said simply, though it was really so much more than that - mostly, it was the fact that he could tell her everything without a second thought. A smile still spread across his face, Ron dropped a kiss on the top of her head before pulling back and turning to the packing.

"I'm done, anyway," he told her as he threw the pair of socks she'd thrown at him into the suitcase. "There we are. Ready for Italy."

"Alright, then," Hermione said, zipping the suitcase shut firmly and lifting it off the bed.

"Wait, let me get that," Ron insisted, snatching it from her hands as smoothly as he could. "Bit heavy."

"What in Merlin's name did you pack?" Hermione asked amusedly, shaking her head as they made their way out to the sitting room.

"Stuff," Ron answered vaguely. "Anyway, are we taking this to the Burrow or coming back here?"

"Let's just take it," Hermione decided. "I don't need anything else here."

"Alright," Ron said, gesturing toward the fireplace. "After you, missus." A couple of uncomfortable moments later, they'd flooed to the Burrow and were greeted by a loud cheer from the crowded sitting room.

"Finally dragged yourselves out of bed, I see!" Charlie shouted by way of greeting, breaking through George's catcalls.

"It's not that late," Hermione protested weakly, but no one seemed to hear her. Ron chuckled as he dragged their suitcase out of the room to rest by the stairwell.

"Oi, there you are!" came a voice from the second floor landing. Ron peered up to see Harry waving at him from above. He grinned and leaned back against the railing to wait for his best friend to descend.

"I thought you and Gin went back to Grimmauld last night," Ron commented when Harry reached him.

"We did," Harry said, "but Ginny left this here." He waved a vial in Ron's face before pocketing it.

Ron pulled a face. "Do I even want to know what that's for?"

"It's not what you're thinking," Harry rolled his eyes. "It's vitamins or something, I dunno. Gwenog's making them all take these bloody supplements for whatever reason."

"The tragedies of being a professional athlete," Ron quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well, she's done after next season," Harry reasoned. "She might as well go out the right way, yeah?"

"S'pose," Ron said. "Have you decided what to do with Grimmauld Place yet?"

"Nope," Harry replied as they made their way back to the sitting room. "Can't very well sell the place, can we? I suppose we'll just keep it for extra storage or something. No chance you and Hermione would want it, is there?"

"Nah," Ron answered. "We've been talking about getting a house ourselves, but no offense mate, the one you've got is a bit dreary." Harry snorted in agreement.

A couple of months ago, Harry and Ginny had confided in Ron and Hermione that they were getting ready to start a family. Since neither of them particularly wanted to raise their children in Grimmauld Place, they had begun looking for child-friendly homes. Additionally, Ginny had decided it was time to end her professional Quidditch career . Instead, she'd begun to write for the Daily Prophet's sports section in her free time, and would be making a full time career of it following her retirement from Holyhead.

"Anyway," Harry said as they rejoined the rest of the family, "we made a bid on a house out near Godric's Hollow - really nice, and it's got a lot of open space. We could be getting ready to move by the time you and Hermione are back, you know."

"That's a thinly veiled cry for help, mate," Ron accused without malice. "But don't worry, we'll try to squeeze you in."

"Well, you're newlyweds. What else have you got to do besides shag?" Harry joked, though Ron could tell that he was trying not to picture the implication behind his words.

"Not a whole lot," Ron admitted. "But that's the best part, see."

"The food is ready!" Mum called from the kitchen, and the large crowd of Weasleys began to make their way to the dining table, which had been enlarged in an attempt to fit the crowd. In the mass of family members, Ron found his way back to Hermione, who took his offered hand with a pretty smile. Feeling gentlemanly, he pulled back her chair when they reached the table, then took the seat next to hers, content to eat with his left hand so he could hold hers under the table for the entirety of brunch.

Ron was quiet for most of the meal - mostly due to stuffing his face with his mum's cooking - but he was content to simply listen and observe his family. Bill was partially in conversation with Charlie while he tried to feed a fussy Victoire, and a very pregnant Fleur had Dominique on her lap as she ate much more meat than she would have if she hadn't developed a craving during this pregnancy - something Mum took as a sure sign they were having a boy.

George and Angelina were sat next to her, deep in their own conversation with Percy, who was giving them unwarranted advice about their impending nuptials. Audrey was next to him, absentmindedly nodding in agreement with his words as she fed little Molly from a bottle. Mum was on Audrey's other side, fussing over the child that bore her name as only Molly Weasley could.

Dad was next to Mum, engaged in conversation with Harry regarding a raid that had taken place a few days previously. A wizard in Bristol had been caught enchanting books at a Muggle shop to explode into fireworks when opened, which had inevitably resulted in several missing eyebrows and singed faces and a load of work for their departments. When George had heard about it, he'd lamented not thinking of it first, causing Angelina to smack him upside the head. Ron mused that she would fit right in.

Ginny and Hermione, meanwhile, were chattering on about anything and everything: Italy, the new house, the wedding gifts, even babies. It struck Ron that regardless of how much was changing, the way they talked about it made it all seem so very natural. Perhaps that was because it _was_ natural, it was the logical next step - and that was why marriage and houses and babies no longer sounded scary or far off. It was happening, just as it ought to - to all of them, Ron realized as he glanced around the table. They were properly grown up now. They may have had to fight a war to get there, and they had struggled through losses along the way, but they had gained so much more. Ron's gaze inevitably fixated on the portrait of Fred that hung on the wall, knowing that somewhere, he was smiling and laughing at the lot of them. Ron liked to think his big brother would have been proud of everything they'd managed to accomplish in five years. He only wished he could truly be there to see it.

Soon, everyone began to finish off their food and settle into the familiar state of early afternoon drowsiness. However, Ron's rest was short-lived, as Hermione had been serious about leaving straight away after eating. As soon as the dishes had been cleared, they began their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and kisses with everyone, each wishing them well in their own way. Some, like Mum, had tears in their eyes. Others, like George, waggled their eyebrows suggestively. When at last everyone was satisfied, and Ron and Hermione had thanked his parents nearly a dozen times for everything, Harry and Ginny offered to walk them out to the Apparition point.

"Remember Harry, if anything goes wrong in the office, I will only make it worse if you try to get a hold of me," Ron reminded him as soon as they set foot out of the door. "Interrupt my honeymoon and you'll wish that Riddle bastard had finished you off."

"Sorted," Harry agreed. "Surely every criminal in the country will simply take a break for your honeymoon anyway?"

"That's the idea," Ron said seriously.

Hermione rolled her eyes and slipped her hand into Ron's. "You two are ridiculous."

"Aren't they?" Ginny commented. "You'd think they'd be sick of each other after a dozen years of bad jokes and taking the piss."

"Nah," Harry said, wrapping an arm about his wife's shoulders. "Rather have a laugh than a serious discussion any day."

"Exactly," Ron concurred. "Serious discussions are what our women are for."

"Do try not to be sexist, will you?" Hermione sighed, though there was no real anger in her tone.

"You know what I mean," Ron insisted softly, and she did - there were things he'd talked about with her that he wouldn't dream of confiding in Harry, and he knew the same was true for Harry and Ginny. Their relationships had changed in the years since they'd left school, but it was all for the best - they all loved each other all the same, loath as they were to say it sometimes. Everything that had changed in the past few years had led them to the place they were now, which, in Ron's opinion, was an incredible place to be.

"Well, have a good time, then," Ginny said as she pulled Hermione into a hug. Harry and Ron, meanwhile, engaged in one of their trademarked handshake-shoulder-grips and exchanged lighthearted jabs about behaving in each other's absence.

"And do try to avoid being sent home early," Ginny continued as she passed Hermione off to Harry, then turned to Ron and hugged him briefly.

"Of course I will," Ron protested, frowning.

"I know," Ginny replied, rolling her eyes. "There's a reason you're my favorite brother, Ron."

Ron smiled and squeezed his sister's shoulder, content to take a heartfelt moment before saying, "It's because I'm the easiest to tease, isn't it?"

Ginny laughed, and Ron could tell she was relieved he hadn't tried to make the conversation any more emotional than it already was. This was Ron's favorite thing about Ginny - she didn't need words, and neither did he. They just knew, and they were content to leave it at that. It was for this reason that Ron was convinced that even if he'd had more than one sister, she'd still have been his favorite.

"Well, we best be off," Hermione said, pulling back from Harry's embrace. "You'll stop in to check on our flat, then?"

"Of course we will," Harry placated. "Now off with you both, don't keep Italy waiting."

"Thanks, mate," Ron told him, and he was sure Harry knew that he didn't just mean the flat.

After a few final waves and goodbyes, Hermione took Ron's hand in hers and turned them on the spot. A moment later, they rematerialized not at the Apparition point near the airport, but instead in a very familiar garden.

"One more stop," she said, smiling at Ron as she tugged him toward the front door and rang the bell.

A moment later, the door opened to reveal a smiling Mrs. Granger. "Don't the two of you have a flight to catch?"

"We couldn't leave without saying goodbye," Hermione said, stepping forward to hug her mother. "We can't stay long though, I'm afraid."

"Well, step in for a moment!" Mrs. Granger insisted before calling up the staircase: "Peter! Ron and Hermione are here! Is that all you packed, dears?" she asked when she turned back to them, gesturing toward the luggage Ron was carrying.

"It's bigger on the inside," Ron explained, setting the suitcase down in the entryway. Mrs. Granger looked confused for a moment, but seemed to decide it wasn't worth asking. A moment later, Mr. Granger emerged from his study, and the four of them retreated to the sitting room.

"How long do you have before your flight?" Mrs. Granger asked when they'd settled in.

"We can only stay a few minutes, I'm afraid," Hermione apologized. "I just wanted to thank you both for all you did to help with the wedding; yesterday was lovely."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Though I'd more like to thank you for having Hermione, to be honest."

Hermione tutted, but Mr. and Mrs. Granger laughed jovially. "The pleasure was ours," Mr. Granger said, and Ron tried as hard as he could not to take the comment suggestively, as the part of his brain that was still sixteen wanted him to.

"The ceremony was lovely," Mrs. Granger said. "A beautiful beginning to a beautiful life, I daresay."

"I'm just so happy you're both a part of it," Hermione replied, smiling tearfully as she took Ron's offered hand and squeezed it gently. "Thank you."

Just a few minutes later, it was time for them to go. Once again, hugs were given all around, even between Ron and Mr. Granger, something no one would have thought possible five years ago. With a final teasing remark from Mrs. Granger, Ron and Hermione left her childhood home and made their way to an Apparition point, ready to begin their honeymoon.

They arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare. Ron had only been on an aeroplane a few times before, but he was confident enough in the process to keep from asking Hermione any silly questions. He could not, however, keep the ridiculous grin off his face whenever someone referred to them as "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." The flight itself was much shorter than their trip to Australia a couple of years previously had been, and Ron and Hermione spent the duration of it simply talking about the future - things as imminent as the honeymoon and as far off as their children starting Hogwarts. It was all within reach now, simply waiting for them to take it.

It was early evening when they landed, and after collecting their suitcase, Hermione called for a taxi to take them to the hotel. On the ride over, Ron's stomach made a noise that betrayed just how hungry he was, and she promised him that they would order room service as soon as they arrived - "and then we can take the rest of the night to ourselves."

He couldn't help but kiss her thoroughly when she said that, probably more so than was comfortable for the driver, but Ron couldn't be arsed to care. They were married, they were in Italy, and they were going to have dinner and then shag the night away. There was simply nothing better.

When at last they reached the hotel, a bit tired from their journey but excited for what the trip would bring - for what their _lives_ would bring - Ron insisted on checking in, though not until Hermione assured him that he would be able to do so in English.

"Erm, hi," Ron said to the smiling attendant at the front desk. "I've got a reservation under Weasley."

"Ah, yes, the honeymoon suite! Congratulations to you!" the attendant said in an enthusiastic Italian accent as he typed something into one of those strange contraptions Hermione had called a computer. "And is this your wife, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron looked sideways at the beautiful woman standing next to him, the woman who was holding his hand and smiling right back at him, just as she had for the past five years - and for seven before that, really. An overwhelming feeling came over him, a feeling of bliss, pride, tranquility, joy, and pure, unadulterated _love_, as he answered in a strong, sure voice: "Yeah. Yeah, she is."

* * *

A/N: Sooo...100 years by Five for Fighting: "I'm still the man, but you see I'm a they." Good. Yes. Romione. :)

**You all should read this one because I have things to say of the grateful variety.**

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU.

That's the short version - the long version can be found on my tumblr. :) I changed my url in honor of Ron and Hermione's marriage - I am now hjeanweasley and will be til at least the 21st of June! I may change back to ronaldweasleycountmein after that, but anyway - yeah.

I've got a whole load of posts that I've tagged as "falbts" on tumblr, and there's a link on my sidebar that is aptly titled "Firsts and Lasts: Behind the Scenes." It includes the thank you note, a Romione fanmix, a couple of graphics, and some "behind the scenes" stuff for anyone that's interested.

I can't believe this fic is over. I have been planning, writing, and editing it for the better part of a year now, and it's really been one of the most fun things I've done in my life. I'm not sure what that says about me, but still - I'm so proud to have completed my first multi-chaptered fic.

Needless to say, I'm not done writing - watch out for more Ron/Hermione from me in the future, if you're interested. :)

Lastly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for making me smile throughout this whole process. I am so happy that I've been able to share my writing, and I am honestly blown away by how incredibly nice you all have been. I wish I could thank you all individually - and hey, if you leave me a review or a message, then I can. :) I love you all, internet strangers and friends. Thank you.


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